


The Things You Don't Forget

by starsinthegutter



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Gen, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (2016), Pre-Canon, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-10-04 17:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10284965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsinthegutter/pseuds/starsinthegutter
Summary: The story of Nyx Ulric before the events of Kingsglaive, beginning as a kid in Galahd and carrying on through his early years as a glaive.





	1. The River

“You first.”

“No way. You first.”

“I said it first. You have to.”

Rules were rules. Libertus had a point.

The two boys stood on the banks of the river. It was early yet in the spring and the snows had only recently melted, which meant that the Galahd River was swelled with melted snow. Today was the first day that the river seemed it might be warm enough to swim in. “Warm enough” was a relative term, however, and they both knew it. It was going to be cold. The only question that remained was how cold, and neither one wanted to be the first to find out. 

Still, the challenge had been issued and Nyx was too stubborn to back away from it now. Besides, he would be able to rub in Libertus's face for weeks afterwards. That alone made it worth it.

Gingerly, Nyx took a step forward. The riverbank was soft beneath his bare feet. The grass was still brown and flat and the mud squelched up between his toes with every step. He swallowed and looked down at the water. It looked gray and unwelcoming.

“We could wait another day,” Libertus suggested. “Another week.”

Nyx turned and fixed him with a look. 

“Just a suggestion,” Libertus mumbled.

Steeling himself, Nyx pulled his shirt over his head and draped it on the branch of the enormous old oak tree that grew on the bank. A passing breeze sent a wave of goosebumps running down his arms and across his stomach. He crossed his arms and shivered.

The oak tree had one branch that stretched out across the river, and from it dangled a short rope that now swayed gently in the cold breeze. It was exactly where they had left it at the end of last summer. Nyx easily reached out and grabbed it. He gave it a tug and it still seemed firm enough. 

He turned to Libertus and gave a dramatic flourish. “Stand back and let the expert show you how it's done."

Libertus took a liberal step back. 

Nyx took a few steps back as well, to give himself room for a running start. The sooner he did it, the sooner the suspense would be over. He grasped the rope firmly in both hands, sighted the river in front of him, and took off running. Mud splashed out from beneath his feet in every direction, hopefully splattering Libertus, although he didn't look back to see. He took a flying leap and for a brief moment, his weight was suspended by the rope. The rope swung out across the river, up, up, and up until, at the zenith of its path, Nyx launched himself off it. He held his breath, every muscle tensing as he tucked his body into a ball, preparing for the impact.

He hit the water like a ton of bricks, the cold water sucking the breath from his lungs. The mild current was already moving him, trying to tug him downstream. He waited underwater a moment, trying to regain control of his body as it recovered from the shock of the cold water. He could just make out the sound of Libertus's cheering, distant and muffled. He tested his limbs and found them willing to obey. Kicking upwards, he broke the surface and swallowed an enormous gasp of air. Libertus's cheering became louder. Nyx rubbed the water from his eyes and squinted up at the bank to see Libertus applauding. 

“How is it?” Libertus asked.

Nyx shrugged, treading water. “It's not so bad once you're in. Come on, chicken. You're next.”

Libertus groaned. “I changed my mind.”

“Too bad,” Nyx grinned and threw a splash up in his friend's direction. “Get in here before I get out and drag you in.”

Libertus moaned a little more, but he tugged off his own shirt and draped it next to Nyx's. He grabbed the rope and puffed out his cheeks in concentration. Nyx swam to the edge to give him room. Libertus got a running start, tongue sticking out between his teeth in concentration, and jumped. The rope went taut under his weight and then swung free as Libertus let go and plunged in.

His head broke the surface a moment later as he gasped and spluttered for air. His face looked so shocked at the cold that Nyx laughed.

“Not so bad, right?”

“Maybe not...if...you're...a polar bear,” Libertus gasped.

Nyx dove under and swam over to Libertus, yanking his friend's legs and pulling him under. They tussled for a moment before Nyx let him go and they both surfaced, laughing.

“Maybe it's not so bad,” Libertus admitted. “Once you get used to it a little.”

“Nyx!”

The unexpected voice broke through the sounds of their splashing and laughter and they looked up to the riverbank to see a small forlorn figure watching them. 

“Selena,” Nyx swam over to the bank beside her. “What are you doing here?”

The small girl sat, her purple dress trailing in the mud. “You weren't at home. I wanted to find you.” She looked doubtfully down at him and Libertus. “What are you doing?”

“Me and Libertus are just swimming. You can sit and watch, if you like.”

Selena crossed her arms. “Can I do it, too?”

Nyx reached up a wet hand and patted hers. “Better not. It's really cold. Besides, you don't really know how.”

Selena slid forward, reaching her short legs down so that she could dip one bare foot in the water. She thought about it. “It's cold. But not that cold. I want to!”

“She's braver than either of us,” Libertus said, treading water next to Nyx. “Come on. We'll both be with her. The water's pretty gentle today.”

What was the harm in it? It would be perfectly safe. So Nyx winked up at his sister. “You want to?”

“Yes!” She jumped up excitedly.

“Okay,” he said. “You're going to want to take your dress off so you don't ruin it. Hang it on that tree over there.”

Selena obeyed, although the dress was already streaked with mud. Nyx winced as he thought about the words their mother would have with them later. Selena dashed back to him, dressed in her underthings. 

He held out his arms to her. “Jump in! I'll catch you.”

She bent her knees, held out her arms, and jumped fearlessly. He caught her easily and she let out a gasp as the icy water came into contact with her bare skin.

“Ohhhh cold!” she gasped.

“I told you,” he laughed. “Come on, it's shallow over here.”

He carefully towed her over to the shallows near the rocks. There, the water was shallow enough that he and Libertus could stand with the water reaching up to their waists, and Selena could stand with her head and shoulders above the water.

“Okay,” Nyx said. “I'm gonna help you float. Are you ready?”

She nodded and her muscles jumped as she tensed as though getting ready for the hardest task she had ever attempted.

“Not like that you aren't,” Libertus told her. “You've got to relax.”

She relaxed a tiny bit. 

Nyx wrapped his arms around her. “Lie back,” he instructed.

She frowned at him suspiciously. “I'll sink.”

“No, you won't. I've got you. Trust me, okay?”

She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. Ever so gently, he tipped her back. Her feet floated up to the surface and her dark hair fanned out around her head like a crown. 

“You can open your eyes,” Nyx said.

She cracked one eye open, and then the other one flew open as she saw that she was staring straight up in the sky. Little by little, her body relaxed onto the water and into Nyx's arms. She laughed nervously.

“You're doing great!” Libertus informed her. 

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.” Nyx said. “I'm gonna let go now, okay?”

“What? No!” She started to try to pull herself upright. 

“Stop, stop stop,” he said. “Don't worry. I won't let you sink. I promise.”

She relaxed again.

Ever so slightly, he released his hold on her. Her body sunk gradually lower until he was barely carrying any of her weight.

She shivered. “Ooo, the water's going in my ears.”

As gently as he could, he pulled his arm out from underneath her. And just like that, she was floating, her body rising and falling naturally with the rhythm of the river.

“There you go,” Nyx said. “I'm not holding you. This is all you.”

She let out a short huff of a laugh, like she was too scared to move to laugh more. “Really?”

“Really,” Nyx told her. “You're doing it.”

“I'm doing it! I'm floating!”

Libertus let out a cheer and Nyx joined in. The river echoed with the sounds of celebration.

“How do I get back up?”

Nyx was back holding her in an instant, helping her right herself. She stood, wet hair hanging like a curtain around her face. She was grinning and exhilarated, but she let out a shiver as a brisk spring wind blew past.

Nyx glanced up at the sky. It was getting late. “We should head home and get you dried off.”

Together, the three children climbed out, shivering as the cold air hit their skin. Nyx hurried to throw his shirt on as the goosebumps crawled up and down his arms. The shirt didn't help much, with his wet hair still dripping down the back of his neck, but it was better than nothing.

They headed away from the river, making their way to the cracked old road that ran into town. They passed few cars, as the road was so potholed that scarcely anyone drove on it. Alongside the road was a rusty, bent guardrail that Selena insisted on walking like a tightrope all the way into town. 

The town was tiny, little more than a collection of a few buildings at the small crossroads. Inside the buildings, the lights were just beginning to blink on, one by one. The area smelled like wet concrete, smoke, mud, and gasoline. A few people stood outside, and distant music could be heard from inside one building. One car idled at the gas pump, its engine still rumbling. 

Across the road was the large shape of the militia headquarters where Nyx knew his dad would be for at least another hour. The militia didn't really do anything, strictly speaking. In his entire life, Nyx could only remember them being called together for an emergency once, and that had been a minor daemon incident. They assembled three times a week to drill and train and it made everyone feel a little safer, knowing that they might be exposed to the Empire without the protection of the Wall, but at least they weren't entirely defenseless. 

At the crossroads, Libertus turned one way and the Ulric siblings turned another.

“See you tomorrow?” Libertus asked.

“I suppose,” Nyx said. “Seeing as you'd be lost without me.”

Libertus responded by kicking an enormous splash from a puddle in Nyx's general direction. Nyx easily dodged it and the two waved goodnight.

That night, Selena was full of chatter about her adventure learning how to float. She demanded to know when they could go again, and Nyx promised that they would soon. The next morning, however, they woke up to find rain pouring from a stone cold sky. Selena sat glumly by the window, waiting for it to clear up, but it never did. Libertus came over in the afternoon, but the rain continued. 

The next day was much the same. The rain had continued overnight and kept up the entire day. Outside, the ditches and roads became small creeks and the fields became swamps as the rain continued to fall all that day and the next. All work in the fields stopped. The Ulrics stayed indoors, except for Nyx's father, who still reported for militia drills. On the second night, a bolt of lightning struck a power line, shutting off the power to the entire town. 

By the third day, the rains had stopped. The entire island still seemed to be dripping, water running from the trees, from the rooftops and gutters and down the hills. But it had stopped falling. It seemed to have left all of Galahd more green and spring-like in its wake.

With the rain stopped, Nyx's and Selena's dad returned to work in the fields, which meant that Nyx was needed as well. The moisture hung in the air, making it hot, humid work despite the fact that the sun never came out from behind the clouds.

Around noon, Selena came traipsing out from the house carrying lunch for Nyx and his father.

“Ah, that's my sunshine!” their dad said gratefully. 

Selena handed over the lunch before tugging on Nyx's sleeve. “When can we go swimming again?”

Nyx swiped at his forehead, sticky with sweat. He wasn't in a mood to be pestered. “I don't know. Maybe tomorrow, yeah?”

She looked down, disappointment plainly written on her face, and trudged off in the direction of the house. Nyx turned back to his work, their brief interaction already forgotten. By the time the day was done, he was sweaty, tired, and looking forward to dinner. It wasn't until he and his father returned to the house that they realized anything was wrong.

“Where's Selena?” Nyx's mom asked, looking behind them as though she expected to see the little girl trailing after them. 

“I...don't know,” Nyx's dad said, surprised. “Is she not in here with you?”

“She went out to come find you. Maybe a half hour ago. You didn't see her?”

“No. Nyx?”

Nyx shook his head. “No, not since...” The earlier conversation suddenly came rushing back to him. “Hang on. I might know where she is. I'll go find her.” 

“Nyx, I'll come with you.”

“No need!” He was already out the door. “I'll be right back.”

He set off at a jog, sloshing through puddles and mud, following the road through town towards the river. He was sure he would find her there. A knot formed in his stomach as he imagined the way the river must be overflowing its banks after the rainstorm. She wouldn't try to go in...would she? His jog became a sprint. 

Sure enough, as he neared the old oak tree, he could see her. She was sitting on the limb that stretched out over the river. She was swinging her legs and flicking leaves into the water, one by one. The fist in his stomach relaxed as he took in her dry, safe appearance.

“Selena!” he called out, waving as he approached.

She turned, her face lighting up as she caught sight of him.

“Nyx!” She raised a hand to wave back. At the precise moment she let go of the branch, an unusually strong breeze rustled the tree, shaking the branches and scattering raindrops from its leaves. It wouldn't have been strong enough to move anyone who had been paying attention and holding on. But she was distracted, twisted around at an awkward angle, and she was not holding on.

She wavered for a moment, struggling to regain her balance. He saw her mouth open in a gasp that he was too far away to hear. And then she fell, plummeting out of sight like a stone.

“Selena!” He ran like he had never run before, and still it didn't seem fast enough. He wished he could have flown or maybe teleported. The mere seconds that it took to reach the river's bank seemed like hours as he imagined her struggling in the water, sinking, sinking, sinking...

As he finally reached the bank, he didn't think. He didn't consider the cold or the current or the crushing waters that careened down the river bed, rushing towards the sea. He just dove.

The cold cut through his body like a knife. It was colder than it had been the other day – much colder. It seized the air from his lungs and sent ice water pumping through his veins. He broke the surface, trembling and gasping for air. “Selena!”

There was no answer and he looked around wildly, scanning the river for any sign of her. There — already downstream, and moving faster all the while. He tried not to think about how far downstream they already were. If they moved much further, this small arm of the river met up with the larger one, and their friendly stream became an angry, roaring tempest, driving relentlessly towards the sea.

He swam with the current, arms and legs pumping as hard as they could, even though he almost didn't need to swim. The current of the swollen river was so powerful that it was sweeping him away. He cried out in pain as the river slammed his leg into a hidden, underwater rock. 

There. She wasn't far now. He could still see the ripples and splashes caused by her struggling underwater.

He dove and the weight of the current slammed his body directly into hers. He grabbed her and held on with all his might, wrapping his arms around her. She was panicking and grabbed at him, pulling them both down further. He fought against her hold, kicking out with his legs and pumping with the one arm he dared to let go of her with. Their heads broke the surface at last. Nyx barely had time to suck in a lungful of air before they were pulled under again by the current. Still he fought, trying to swim sideways against the current, towards the bank.

At last, his fingers brushed soft mud. They surfaced again and this time he held onto the river wall for dear life. Selena clung to him, gasping for air, and for a moment, they were all right.

“You have to climb,” he said urgently. “You have to climb up now.” Even as he spoke, he could feel the water tugging at him, trying to wash him away. He dug his hand into the soft earth and held fast. 

“I can't!” Selena cried, her voice shrill and panicked. 

“Yes, you can. You can do this. Come on!”

With his free hand, he lifted her forward. She reached out her short arms and managed to get her elbows up onto the bank. He boosted her, and she squirmed and hauled herself up by her arms. Eyes still wide with terror, she turned around and held out her hands to Nyx. 

“You next.”

He took her hand and she pulled mightily. With his other hand, he reached up for the bank. 

The soft mud crumbled under his fingers and before he had time to think or process what was happening, he was falling back into the water. The last thing he coherently heard was Selena screaming his name. 

The water seemed to be stronger this time, and he was knocked head over heels, tossed around like he was weightless. His head broke the surface at one point and he tried to take a breath, but he wasn't fast enough and the water rushed in, filling his nose and his mouth and his lungs. There was too much of it. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't tell which way was up and which was down. He felt his head crack against a rock. He tried to fight, to swim, but his limbs weren't working like they should be and the current was too strong...too strong...he was so tired.

He forced his eyes open and somehow, through the white water and the confusion, he caught a glimpse of Selena on the river bank. She was running alongside the river as he was being swept along. She was yelling something – what, he had no idea – and she was holding something. A branch? A stick? 

Selena was waiting on him. He couldn't leave her.

He forced his aching body to move. With a last burst of strength he didn't know he had, he forced himself up, his head breaking the surface at last. He was choking and gasping, trying to cough up the mouthful of water he has swallowed. 

“Nyx!”

Selena dove onto her stomach, holding out the branch to him. He lunged out and grabbed it. It held, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. She was too small to be able to pull him out on her own. Still, it was the only lifeline he had and he held onto it with all his might.

Suddenly, the branch was being pulled towards the bank, dragging him with it. A pair of strong hands reached down and plucked him from the river. He was coughing and spluttering so that he could hardly see straight.

Then there was solid ground beneath him and he was lying on his back, staring up into the twilight sky. Someone thumped on his chest – hard – and he convulsed violently, all the water that he had swallowed making a reappearance as he rolled onto his side, retching and vomiting it back up. 

When he could breathe properly again, he looked up.

“Dad,” he said weakly. 

His dad was kneeling beside him, one arm around Selena who huddled against him, shivering.

“Nyx,” his dad said, brushing the wet hair off Nyx's forehead. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Nyx nodded, not trusting his voice yet.

“How many fingers?” 

Nyx squinted. The fingers on his dad's hand seemed to be blurring together. He took a guess. “Three?”

“Close enough.”

His dad pulled Nyx up into a sitting position and wrapped him in his arms. He buried his head in Nyx's shoulder and hugged him like he was afraid he would disappear. “I saw you in the water and for a moment, I thought...I was afraid I...If I had been just a moment later....” His sentence trailed off. Nyx reached a still-shaking hand up and patted his dad's shoulder. 

“It's ok, Dad,” he croaked. The back of his throat and nose still burned with every breath he took and his chest ached like he had been running for miles.

His dad reached up a hand to the back of Nyx's head, and when he pulled it away, it was smeared with blood. Nyx vaguely remembered the rock he had collided with. He felt almost guilty as he saw the expression of horror and sadness on his father's face.

“Come on,” he said, lifting Nyx in his arms like he weighed no more than Selena. “Let's get you two home.”

Nyx wanted to insist that he was fine and that 12 was too old to be carried by your dad. But his legs still felt like jelly and his head was beginning to throb, so he decided against it. 

Selena trotted alongside them, still wet and shivering. She looked up at Nyx like she was afraid he was going to vanish. He reached down and took her hand.

“You see?” he asked through his raw throat. “I told you. I'll always keep you safe.”


	2. The Grave

“One package of salt. Two cans of beans. One of those bags of potatoes – the small ones. Two bags of rice. Carrots. A cut of whatever the cheapest meat you have is. Ummmm.... one of the small packages of flour.”

The man that ran the small food stall packed everything neatly into a large paper bag. “200 gil,” he said, sounding bored.

Nyx was taken aback. It shouldn't have been so much. He must have miscalculated. Uncertainly, he reached into his pocket and closed his fist around the small number of coins there. “200? Are you sure?”

“Sure I'm sure.”

Nyx rubbed at his eyes blearily. He was too tired to argue. “Fine. Forget the meat then. And maybe only one bag of rice.”

The stall manager leaned forward, peering down at Nyx like he was looking at him for the first time. “Wait a second - you Ulric's kid?”

Nyx pulled himself up a little straighter and tried to look like he wasn't dead on his feet. “Yes, sir.”

“Your daddy's a fine man. How is he doing? Any better?”

Nyx felt a tug of anger and the neutral expression on his face began to feel frozen. Whoever this man was, he had no business prying into Nyx's family's affairs. If he couldn't be bothered to know that Nyx's father was dying and had been for months now, then he had no business asking after him now.

“No,” Nyx said flatly. “And you can take those extra things out of the bag.”

“Hang on, hang on,” the stall owner said hastily. “Forget what I said about 200, all right? Just give me whatever you have to spend and we'll call it even.”

“Thanks, but no,” Nyx said, bristling still further.

“Nyx!”

Nyx turned to see Libertus trotting towards him, hands buried in a jacket and a hood pulled up over his head against the cold. 

“Lib.”

Nyx turned back to the stall owner and raised his eyebrows at him. The man said nothing, but took the offending items out of the bag. Nyx pulled out the coins and placed them carefully on the counter before grabbing the bag and walking off towards Libertus.

“What's up?” Nyx asked his friend as they began walking together. His breath formed a frosty cloud in the air.

Libertus shrugged his shoulders. “I was on my way over to your place. Haven't seen your mom or Selena in forever.”

“They'll be really happy,” Nyx said. “They've been missing you.”

“What about you?” Libertus asked. “How have you been holding up?”

It was Nyx's turn to shrug his shoulders. “Tired, mostly. I stayed up with him last night so Mom could sleep.”

“Think it'll be long now?”

Libertus didn't have to say what he was referring to. They both knew. It was nice to not have to say it, though.

“The doctor doesn't think so,” Nyx said. 

In truth, Nyx harbored a fair amount of bitterness towards the doctor in question. Six months ago, when his dad had collapsed, the doctor hadn't been able to tell them what was wrong. No matter how many tests he ran or drugs he tried, nothing was conclusive and nothing seemed to be working. All anyone knew is that there had been no accident. No injury. No life-altering event that seemed it should have caused this. And yet, despite all anyone could do, Mr. Ulric's health continued to decline. It wasn't long before the doctor told them that there was nothing more he could do. That Mr. Ulric was dying, and the most he could do was keep him comfortable. The most the doctor had been able to conclude is that it was probably some form of degenerative, irreversible disease. Maybe genetic. Maybe environmental. Maybe an act of the gods. There was no way to be sure.

Libertus said nothing to Nyx's admission that the end was probably near. After all, there wasn't much to say. That was the nice thing about having Libertus as a friend, Nyx reflected. Most people simply wrote Libertus off as the kind of person who never stopped talking. But the truth was that in the important moments, Libertus knew it was sometimes best to say nothing at all. 

Instead of saying anything, Libertus reached over and took the grocery bag from his friend. Nyx knew that the gesture meant what the words couldn't say. So he didn't protest, and instead, he slung his arm across Libertus's shoulder. Together, they headed for Nyx's house. Around them, a light snow began to fall, gentle flakes that didn't seem to be falling as much as they seemed to just be hanging in the air and silently settling in the cracks and ruts of the road.

By the time they reached his house, Nyx was so tired he could barely lift his feet off the ground. He barged heavily in through the front door, Libertus close on his heels.

“Mom?”

Mrs. Ulric appeared in the kitchen, shutting the door to the bedroom behind her quietly. “Good, you're back.” She looked as tired as Nyx felt, but a smile broke out across her face when she saw Libertus. 

“Libertus!” She crossed the room and folded him into a tight hug. “It's good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Mrs. Ulric,” he said, patting her on the back. “How are you and Selena?”

“Oh, we're getting along,” she said. 

Libertus had set the bag of groceries on the counter and Nyx began unpacking it. He hoped his mother wouldn't notice there was less than he'd said he would bring.

“Lib!” A small, dark-haired figure came barreling out of one of the back rooms and threw her arms around Libertus. 

“Lena!” He returned her hug. 

“I never see you anymore,” she accused, backing away and looking up into his face. “You never visit.”

Libertus scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I dunno. I guess I don't want to be underfoot. Don't want to get in the way?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Mrs. Ulric said firmly. “You're practically part of the family. You could never be in the way. Won't you stay for some dinner?”

Libertus shook his head. “Nah, I can't. I want to get home before dark. My folks will be worried. I just dropped in to say hi.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning to the door. “Good to see you. You have a good night, Mrs. Ulric. See you later, Lena. Nyx.”

Selena waved and Nyx sent his friend a grateful nod. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he didn't deserve a friend like Libertus. 

The door closed behind Libertus. Mrs. Ulric seemed to deflate slightly, as if she had been holding herself a little straighter and smiling a little brighter for the sake of the company. She let out a sigh and sat down at the kitchen table. Nyx quietly continued putting the groceries away.

Selena slid into place at the counter next to him and helped. As always, however, she was too sharp for her own good and she soon noticed that some things were missing. She opened her mouth to say something, but Nyx heard her intake of breath and shook his head at her. She frowned at him in question and he inclined his head towards their mother. No need to bother her.

“How was the shopping, Nyx?” their mother asked, raising her head.

“Oh, you know, great,” he said in an attempt at easy conversation. “I swear, those stall owners get stingier every day. You wouldn't believe this guy.” He rattled on, telling his family about his day. Half of it was true, the other half was made up. It didn't matter. He was just trying to fill the silence that seemed to have crept into their house lately. It didn't matter if the conversation itself was meaningless.

They had soup for dinner and Mrs. Ulric disappeared into the bedroom to sit with their father and try to get him to eat something. Nyx and Selena were left alone at the kitchen table, lit only by the single bulb burning in the lamp in the ceiling. It flickered occasionally, casting long, strange shadows across the room.

Nyx was so exhausted he could barely eat. He ate without tasting, and halfway through his bowl he gave up, deciding it wasn't worth the effort of lifting his spoon to his mouth. Instead he just sat, his eyes blurring out of focus and resting on the mantel above the fireplace. There, placed across two nails, was his father's kukri knife. 

It was the weapon their father used during his militia training. It had never actually been used in a real battle, but it hung above the fireplace every day, a constant reminder that the Ulric house was protected. Growing up, it had been an assurance that nothing could ever hurt any of them – that they would always be safe as long as his father was there to look out for them. 

Except that was no longer true, he realized. The reality was that his father was not going to be there much longer. And when that day came, the knife would lose all meaning. After all, what good was the weapon without the warrior to wield it? It was nothing – a symbol that had lost its significance. 

“Nyx.”

Nyx gave a start and realized his eyes had fallen shut and his head was resting on his fist, propped up on the tabletop. Selena was looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “What?”

“I said you should go to bed. Get some sleep.”

He swiped a hand across his eyes and sat up. “No. We should take care of the dishes and then I should see if Mom needs any help with Dad.”

Selena smiled at him. “I'll do that. You need to go to bed before you fall into your soup.”

Nyx looked at her and the image of her blurred before his tired eyes. She looked almost exactly like their mother. When had she become so grown up? 

“No, I can help.”

She reached across the table and pulled his bowl away from him. “No. You're going to bed. I'll put this in the fridge in case you want it later.”

She stood and began to gather the dishes and that was that. There was no arguing with Selena once she had made up her mind. There never had been. Stubbornness ran in the family. 

He heaved himself to his feet and stumbled to the doorway of his parents' room, knocking on the door as gently as he could. 

“Come in,” his mother said quietly. 

He eased the door open and slipped inside. The room was dark, with only a single candle burning on a bedside table, and smelled of the incense his mother had been burning. His father lay on the bed beneath the blankets. His eyes were closed and he breathed easily. His mother sat in a chair pulled close to the edge of the bed, holding his hand in hers. The bedside table was littered with pill bottles.

“Any change?”

His mother shook her head. “He ate a couple spoonfuls of soup, and I got him to take another dose. He's sleeping pretty well, for now.”

“That's good.” He leaned his head back against the wood of the door and took in his father's appearance. It had been months, but it still pained him to see his father this way. He would do anything – anything – to change things. To somehow fix them.

His mother shifted, her chair creaking, and Nyx returned to the present.

“Listen, I'm going to try to go get a few hours sleep, all right?” he said. “You'll wake me if there's any change?”

“Of course,” his mother said. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. Thank you so much for your help.”

Nyx let himself back out and made his way down the hallway to his room. Once there, he didn't even bother undressing. He collapsed onto the bed, fully clothed, and was asleep within minutes.

\----

“Nyx.”

It took Nyx a moment to drag himself out of his dead, dreamless sleep and realize that someone was shaking his shoulder. It was his mother and she was whispering his name urgently. What time was it, he wondered hazily? It was still dark. Which meant that the only explanation she would have for waking him up was that had been some change in his father.

Nyx sat upright so fast he almost knocked heads with her. “What is it? What's wrong? Is it Dad?”

In the dim light coming from the open door to the hall, he could just see her nod. “He's awake and talking. He's more lucid than he's been in weeks. I don't know....I don't...I think it might be tonight.”

His heart sank. An army of protests raced through his brain. Not now. Not tonight. Not ever. “Are you going to wake Selena?”

She nodded again. “We must.”

“Don't,” he said. “If it really is tonight, she doesn't need to see that.”

Even in the darkness, he could feel the force of her reproachful stare. “What right do we have to deprive her of one last moment with her father? If we let her sleep, she'll never forgive us. Or herself.”

She was right, of course. She was always right.

“You go back to him,” he said, standing. “I'll get Selena.”

She slipped back down the hall while he knocked gently on Selena's door. It opened from the inside and Selena appeared in the doorway. She was dressed for bed, in one of their dad's old shirts that hung down to her knees, but she was very much awake.

“Couldn't sleep,” she said in answer to his unasked question. “What's going on?”

“It's Dad,” he said. “He's awake. Mom thinks it...could be tonight.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn't say a word. She just reached up and took his hand. Together, they made their way down the dark hallway into their parents' room.

The room looked much the same as it had earlier in the evening. Mrs. Ulric still sat, holding her husband's hand. The candle still burned on the bedside table, although it was little more than a stub now, flickering faintly above a pool of melted wax. The only real difference was that their father's eyes were open and he was propped up on his pillows.

“Dad!” Selena let go of Nyx's hand and crawled onto the bed beside her father, curling up against his side.

He smiled and moved his free arm around her. “Lena. I've missed your smile.” His voice was faint, but clear. 

“How are you feeling?” Selena asked anxiously.

“Not... so bad,” he said. He caught sight of Nyx lingering in the doorway. “Nyx.”

“Hi, Dad,” Nyx said. 

Their mother turned in her chair and motioned for Nyx to come closer. He did, and found that he suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands or feet. He didn't know where to look or what to say. So he sat awkwardly at the foot of the bed and looked down at his parents' clasped hands.

“This is nice,” Mr. Ulric sighed. He glanced from Selena on one side to Nyx and Mrs. Ulric on the other. “Just us. Just family.”

Nyx felt a lump rising in his throat and he swallowed it. Family. All of them together. Funny how it wasn't something you really thought about until you realized it would soon be gone. 

“So many things I want to tell you all,” their father said. His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but the house was so silent that no one had any difficulty hearing him.

“Selena.” He reached up to tuck a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “My firecracker. You're more like your mother every day, you know that? I want...to tell you something that you're never to forget. If anyone ever tells you to be quiet, or to stop speaking or thinking, you're to punch him in the face. Like I taught you. Understand?”

Selena smiled and the tear that had been trembling on her cheek fell, marking a tiny dark spot on the blanket. “I understand.”

“Nyx.”

Nyx looked up.

“Would you run and get my knife? Above the fireplace?”

“You want it now?”

“Please.”

Confused, Nyx did as he was told. The knife felt strange in his hand. He could only ever remember holding it once before. He had been about 6 years old and had grabbed it out of curiosity. His mother had found him and scolded him, and his father had given him a long speech about how it wasn't a toy to be played with. At the time, it had been far too big for his small hands. Strange how much smaller it seemed now. His hand wrapped around the handle easily, like it had been made for him.

He carried it back to the bedside and held it out to his father. But Mr. Ulric shook his head.

“Keep it,” he said. “It belongs to you now.”

Nyx looked down at it. “What?”

“I want you to have it.”

“But it's yours,” he protested.

“And now it's yours.” Mr. Ulric said. “I hope you'll never need it. But if you do, I want you to remember that wasn't made to destroy. It was made to protect.”

Nyx blinked past the tears that welled in his eyes and threatened to spill over. “I'll take good care of it.”

“I know you will. You have a good heart, Nyx. You're a good man.”

He turned from Nyx to his wife. He twined his fingers together with hers and gazed up at her with so much love that it felt like a physical stab in Nyx's heart. It was a moment of such casually intense intimacy that Nyx almost felt the need to look away to give them privacy.

“My love,” he said, and it seemed his voice had become fainter still. “This life has been good. There is no one else I would have wanted to live it with. Only you.”

Mrs. Ulric made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Nyx tightened his fist around the blanket and squeezed it as hard as he could. He wanted to speak up. To tell his father to stop saying goodbye. To tell him that he would be fine. But he wasn't going to be fine and they all knew it. What was the point if none of them believed it?

“You have always been the heart of this family, and I know nothing will break it apart as long as you are guarding it.”

She whispered his name and leaned forward, burying her tears in his chest.

“I'll wait for you. Whatever comes next.” The words were barely a sigh and they came slowly, like a piece of music that was fading into silence. “But don't hurry. Take your time. I would wait...an eternity for you.”

His breathing changed, evening out and it became apparent that he had fallen asleep again. Nyx brushed away the tears that swam in his eyes as the three off of them sat, silently. The clock ticked steadily and their father's chest rose and fell. The shadows from the candle leaped and danced on the walls.

The room was just beginning to acquire the gray tint of early dawn when the candle finally sputtered out, drowned in its own melted wax. A change passed over the room. Nothing moved and no one spoke, but it was as if a cold wave had passed over them and they could all feel it. Nyx looked up and realized what had changed. His father's chest was no longer moving. 

\----

The following days blurred together. Days and night faded together without clearly defined edges. Nyx responded politely to endless sympathizers and guests, most of whom he barely knew and didn't care about. He tried to get his mother to rest. Most nights Selena crawled into his bed and slept beside him, whispering that her own room was too quiet. He would lie awake, one hand wrapped around his father's kukri underneath his pillow, listening to Selena's quiet, steady breathing until he, too, would finally fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Mr. Ulric was buried in a cemetery not far from the river. His gravestone was small and plain, inscribed only with his name and the phrase “Nox Perpetuam non est.” The funeral was a quiet affair, although almost the entire town attended. Mr. Ulric had been a well-liked figure and everyone wanted to pay their last respects. Afterwards, everyone approached to tell Mrs. Ulric how sorry they were, and to pat Nyx on the shoulder and Selena on the cheek. Throughout the funeral, a light snow fell gently, settling over the earth like a fine sifting of flour.

One of the few such interactions that Nyx actually remembered from the funeral was with the captain of the Galahdian militia that his father had been a member of. 

The captain bowed to Mrs. Ulric. “Your husband was one of the finest men I've ever known,” he told her. “His loss is a scar we will always bear.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Your kind words are appreciated.”

“If you need anything, ever, do not hesitate to ask,” he said. “Our entire company is at your service.”

He turned to Nyx and Selena. “And you, young man. You're welcome with us at any time. You too, young lady.”

The days turned into weeks and winter settled over Galahd. The snows came more often, frosting the houses and buildings with a thick layer of whiteness. The Galahd River froze solid, and icicles hung from the eaves and gutters.

When Nyx and Selena had been small, their parents had taught them how to ice skate on the frozen river. The four of them had staged grand snowball fights, pairing off into teams of two. Everyone would always fight to be on their mother's team, because everyone knew that she always won. Afterwards, they would troop back indoors, faces flushed from the cold, and warm themselves with large mugs of coffee, dosed liberally with heaping spoonfuls of sugar. These activities had become Ulric family traditions, even as Nyx and Selena grew older. 

This year was different, however. Each member of the family put a tremendous effort into making the others smile, and sometimes they even succeeded. But the entire dynamic was different. Selena grew quieter and Nyx grew more talkative in an attempt to get her to talk. She often disappeared for long periods of time and no one knew where she went, until one day Nyx stumbled upon her purely by accident.

She was in the cemetery, sitting on a fallen stone that had likely been there for centuries, the names and dates long since worn off. 

Nyx approached and sat down beside her without saying anything. He waited for her to speak first.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

“I'm just talking to Dad,” she explained.

He nodded. “Does he answer?”

“Not yet,” she said, wrapping her arms around her knees. “But maybe someday.”

Nyx mimicked her pose, pulling his knees up and clasping his hands around them. They sat in silence, contemplating the small stone before them. All around them, the world was silent.

“You know what?” he asked at last.

“Hm?”

“I think his stone looks lonely.”

She studied it carefully. “You think?”

“Yeah. You think we could find some flowers to put on it?”

She gave him a withering look. “It's winter, dummy. There are no flowers.”

“Dummy yourself. There are if you know where to look.”

They didn't find flowers, exactly. But they found some long sprigs of purple berries, frozen in the cold. Selena carefully brushed the snowflakes from them and together they placed them neatly against the stone. 

“What do you think?” Nyx asked as they stepped back to assess their handiwork.

“Less lonely,” she said.

He reached down and took her hand. It was cold in his. Slowly, she leaned her head against his shoulder. They remained where they were, staring down at the small stone with the purple berries.

\----

Nyx slipped out early the next morning, before his mother and sister were awake. The world was only half awake, with a pinkish glow rising in the east, sending streaks of gold across a grayish white sky. The cold air stung his nose as he buried himself in his coat and made his way to the riverbank.

He was only a little surprised when he found that the old oak tree was already occupied. Libertus sat on the overhanging branch, similarly bundled, swinging his legs in the open air above the frozen river. Nyx climbed up and slid into place beside him.

“Nice morning,” Libertus offered.

“Not bad,” Nyx agreed. “Kind of early for you to be up, though.”

“You're one to talk,” Libertus said.

“Guess this is new for both of us.” Nyx said. “How'd you know I would be here?” 

“I didn't. I mean, I didn't know you'd be here today,” Libertus explained. “But I knew you'd be here eventually. So I've been coming. Just in case.”

“Every morning?”

“Yup.”

They sat together, watching the sun rays as they began to glint through the tree branches, tinting the clouds in faint shades of purple. Nyx thought about the day his dad had saved him from drowning in the river. It had happened less than a year ago, and yet it somehow felt like a lifetime ago.

“We're moving into town,” Nyx offered.

“Yeah?”

“Selling our place. Using the money to pay off all the medical bills. I'll get a job. So will my mom.”

“I can talk to my dad. See if he could hire anyone else.”

“Thanks.” Nyx scooped a handful of snow off the branch beside him, patting it and smoothing it into a perfect snowball. He lifted it up and let it drop onto the ice below, where it broke apart upon impact. “I've been thinking about something else, too.”

“What?”

“A tattoo.”

“For your dad?”

Nyx reached up and touched the skin directly below his left eye. “Right here.”

“Think it'll hurt?”

“I don't know. I guess so.”

"My mom has one," Libertus said. "She got it when her brother died."

"My dad got one when he and my mom got married," Nyx said.

“Can I come? When you get it?”

“If you want.” Nyx said it in an offhanded way, but he was grateful for his friend's company. He would have done it alone, but it would be better with Libertus.

The two friends waited until it was light enough that places would be open. Neither of them had ever gotten a tattoo before, but everyone knew that there was a barber in town who would do them cheaply, if not exactly well. Nyx reached into his pocket for money to pay the man, but Libertus stopped him. 

“You think I'm gonna let you pay for this?” Libertus asked. “Go sit in the damn chair.”

“You can't just pay for me,” Nyx said in exasperation.

“Watch me,” said Libertus, handing over the money. “Besides, I'm not paying for you. I'm paying for my own entertainment. I get to watch you be a wuss about the needle.”

And that was that. Half an hour later, when they emerged, Nyx was sporting a tiny dot followed by a line, directly under his left eye. It was a Galahdian symbol, representing a soul's entry to the afterlife. It was pink and slightly swollen, but so small that it would ordinarily be almost unnoticeable. Nyx awkwardly tried to thank Libertus, who brushed it off, claiming that the photographic evidence he now possessed was worth it. 

When Nyx arrived back home, he didn't immediately say anything about the tattoo. His mother noticed right away, however. A sad smile broke over her face, and she reached up to gently brush his cheek with her thumb. “He'll always be with us, you know. As long as we remember him.”

Nyx looked down, and he happened to catch sight of his mother's hand that she seemed to be conspicuously holding behind herself.

“What's that?”

“This?” Her smile became less sad as she slyly revealed what she was holding. It was three pairs of ice skates. “Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe the three of us could go ice skating. That is, if you're interested.”

The lump in Nyx's throat was back and he couldn't think of the words to say. So he just nodded.

“I think...he would want us to go without him. Don't you?” she asked.

She was right, of course. She was always right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


	3. The Daemon and the King

The air conditioning unit was broken, which meant that there was a total of five different portable fans plugged into various outlets around the post office, all humming along in a slightly out-of-tune chorus. Even with the amount of air they were blowing around, the room was still hot and sticky and it made Nyx want to fall asleep.

He sat on a stool behind the post office counter, slumped over the glass countertop with his fist propped against his forehead. In one hand, he held a pencil that he was tapping on the counter to the rhythm of the fan's incessant humming. 

The door swung open, ringing the little bell that hung above it. Nyx looked up without bothering to shift from his slumped posture. Shit. It was an actual person he had to interact with. He sat up straighter and did his best to adopt an expression of polite engagement. 

“Hi,” he said blandly. “What can I do for you?”

The customer was a middle aged man who didn't so much as glance at Nyx, much less acknowledge his question. He just wordlessly tossed a box up on the counter. 

“Me? Oh, I'm doing fine, thanks,” Nyx mumbled as he slapped the appropriate postage on the package. “Thanks for asking.”

The man looked up. “Excuse me?”

“I said that's going to be 5 gil.”

The man looked at Nyx like he didn't quite believe his lie, but didn't care enough to say so. He put the coins on the counter and left. 

Nyx slumped back into his previous position. He glanced at the clock. There was still half an hour left on his shift at what was quite possibly the most boring job in all Galahd. 

The worst part was that technically, he didn't get paid. His compensation for the long hours of torturous boredom was the fact that he, his mother, and Selena were allowed to live in the tiny apartment upstairs above the post office. His mother was the only one that was actually bringing home any money. Selena had been spitting mad when she had found out that she wasn't going to be allowed to work. She had insisted that she wanted to help contribute as well, but Mrs. Ulric had flatly insisted that 11 was too young to have a job. 

Nyx reached over to the radio that sat at the end of the counter and flicked it on. The static-filled voice was glaringly cheerful, blaring loudly over the droning of the fans. “...commemorating the anniversary of the Wall's withdrawal, as King Regis's tour of the Lucian frontier is drawing to a close. The final stop will be made in Galahd before the King returns south to Insomnia. Preparations have been ongoing for weeks in anticipation of his arrival. Many are cheering the King's visit, the first he's made to Galahd since the Wall's withdrawal 18 years ago. Others question this tour as little more than a publicity stunt, an opportunity to soothe protesters with empty promises. With the address taking place this evening, many are wondering...”

The bell above the door clanged loudly as the door was flung open, banging against the wall in the process. Nyx looked up, annoyed, until he saw that it was Libertus.

“Nyx!” Libertus said. “Why are you still here? Everyone's getting ready for the address.”

Nyx gave the clock a significant look. “I've still got another half hour here before I can close up.”

“Why?” Libertus demanded. “The King is in Galahd! Who wants to buy stamps now, of all times?”

Nyx rolled his eyes. “The same idiots that normally do?”

“Whatever,” Libertus said. He dragged a stool over to the end of the counter, the metal scraping loudly across the floor, and sat. “I'll wait.”

The clock's second hand dragged, but the time passed more quickly with Libertus there.

“What do you think he's like?" Libertus wondered aloud. "The King, I mean?”

Nyx shrugged. “Haven't you seen pictures of him a hundred times?”

“Sure, but that doesn't count. What's he like, really?”

“Dunno. Probably too high and mighty for us.”

“You think?” Libertus asked. “I don't think so. I bet he's really cool. He seems like he'd be cool. You know?”

“If you say so.”

“I mean, he's got a son. He can't be that bad if he's a dad, too, right?”

“Prince Noctis,” Nyx said. 

“He's what, 5?”

“8.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Selena collects pictures of him from gossip magazines. She knows all about him.”

“Weird.”

“I know.”

“Still,” Libertus continued. “It's cool that he's making this whole tour around to visit all of the outlying regions. Right?”

“I guess,” Nyx said. 

“Come on!” Libertus reached across the counter to snatch away the pencil that Nyx was still idly tapping on the counter. “It's the King! When else are we ever going to get to see the King in person? Be at least a little excited.”

Nyx grabbed a second pencil and flicked it at his friend. “I'll be excited when I get out of this stupid post office.”

The bell rang again and Nyx looked up to see a customer walk in. He groaned inwardly when he saw who it was. He didn't even know the guy's name, but he had seen him around town and hated him on sight. The guy couldn't have been any older than 20, but he was about 6 feet tall, dressed like he constantly expected everyone to be snapping photos of him, rode a motorcycle, and whistled at girls as they walked past. 

Nyx slouched on his stool and leveled a glare in the stranger's direction.

The guy approached the counter, running a hand casually through his perfectly quaffed hair. It was cut short, in the southern, more modern style that Nyx privately thought looked stupid. He smelled like expensive cologne. “Book of stamps.”

Nyx took one out and passed it across the counter. “10 gil.”

At the end of the counter, Libertus snorted. 

The stranger finally looked up at Nyx. “What the hell? I'm not paying 10 gil for this shit.”

Nyx shrugged innocently, shoving his hands into his pockets. “New policy. We charge extra for douche bags.”

Libertus let out a snicker.

The stranger whirled towards Libertus. “You think that's funny?”

Libertus stopped laughing.

The stranger turned back to Nyx and reached across the counter to grab the front of Nyx's shirt. The force of his grip dragged Nyx forward off his stool. “Listen to me, you little shit. You think you can just talk to me like that and get away with it? I ought to...”

They didn't find out what he ought to do, however, because the door opened again and a little old lady came tottering in. The stranger released Nyx, glaring at him all the while. 

Nyx gave him his best shit-eating grin. “Still 10 gil.”

The stranger glared at him before slapping the money down on the counter, snatching up the stamps, and stalking out.

After the old lady left, Libertus let out a nervous laugh. “Did you see the look on his face? What a douche.”

They thought nothing more of it as Nyx's shift finally ended. Free at last, they locked up the office behind them and headed for the center of town. The crowd had already gathered, flocking around the recently constructed stage and podium that now dominated the area. The stage was hung with purple banners and flags all proudly bearing the Galahdian crest. Nyx and Libertus were among the last to arrive and they had to elbow their way through the crowd, looking for Nyx's family.

“There they are,” Libertus said, pointing. Nyx looked and sure enough, there was Selena. She had climbed the service ladder on a telephone pole and could be seen above the crowd, waving at them. 

“You're late,” Selena hissed down at them when they finally wove their wave through the crowd to her side. “They're saying he's almost here!”

“Get down from there before you fall,” Nyx said. 

“Nope. I can see better from up here.”

“You made it,” Mrs. Ulric said. “You're just in time. Did you lock up the office?”

“Yeah.”

“Libertus, did he lock up?"

“Hey!” Nyx protested, before realizing that she was teasing him.

The crowd began to cheer and they all turned to see what for. Nyx craned his neck, but couldn't see anything above the heads of the people in front of him.

“They're here!” Selena let out a yell.

“Can't see a damn thing,” Libertus muttered beside him.

“Maybe she had the right idea,” Nyx agreed.

The crowd's cheering rose to a small roar. 

“What's happening?” Nyx asked Selena.

“There's a whole line of cars pulling up, all shiny and black and expensive-looking,” she told him, narrating what she could see. “They're stopping. The doors are opening. Lots of people are getting out. Guards, maybe. They're all in black. Wait, I think...there! That's him! That's the king!”

Nyx stretched as tall as he could, putting his hand on Libertus's shoulder to push himself up an extra inch. He could just make out a faraway figure, dressed neatly in a suit and a cloak. His hair was gray and he walked slowly but steadily. He came into view as he ascended the small stage and stood behind the podium. Several guards stood at attention around them. Nyx wondered how many guards were standing in amongst the crowd as well. 

King Regis raised his hands and the crowd quieted. Libertus pushed Nyx off his shoulder.

“Good people of Galahd!” He spoke into the microphone mounted on the podium and his voice carried out across the whole town. “It has been too long since I last set foot on these beautiful shores. It gives me great pleasure to be here again. You honor all of Lucis with this royal welcome.”

The crowd cheered at that, but quieted as he spoke again.

“Today, we take a moment to pause and reflect on the past. 18 years ago my father, King Mors, was forced to make a decision. War hounded our lands, and he was forced to pull back his defenses, to concentrate them around the heart of our land. The Wall that had guarded all of Lucis was removed from many regions, including the proud islands of Galahd. It was not a decision that was made lightly. When my father spoke of it, he told me that it was one of the hardest decisions he ever made.”

“Niflheim saw this as an act of weakness. An admission that Lucis could no longer protect its own. They demanded that the people of Galahd, as well other lands, accept Niflheim as their new sovereign. But the spirit of Galahd remained strong, and you refused. You refused the empire's demands and your courage in doing so inspired us all. The world watched in awe as you stood firm, declaring that you knew no king save Lucis.”

“Now, years later, Galahd still stands strong, a beacon of light to the world. A cry of triumph for the name of freedom. A shout of defiance in the face of tyranny. Proof that the strength of a kingdom lies not in its walls and armies, but in the hearts of its people.”

Again, the crowd cheered. Nyx couldn't help but feel a thrill of pride and patriotism at the king's words. 

“Today is not merely a day to remember our history, however. Today is also a day to look forward to the future, with hope and anticipation. A future where Galahd continues to remain a symbol of hope for Lucis and the world. Where the proud people of this land continue to live free, productive lives in the service of their kingdom. It is our hope that you look forward to this future without fear, knowing that although our Wall no longer surrounds you, Galahd will always remain a vital part of our great kingdom, and will always have our protection.”

The crowd cheered and King Regis waved a benevolent hand before descending the stairs again. That was it. The speech that everyone had been going on about for weeks was over. The King disappeared from view again as he ducked into the car.

The crowd began to dissipate and Selena climbed down. “Prince Noctis wasn't with him.” She sounded disappointed.

Mrs. Ulric put her arm around Selena. “The prince is probably at home, doing his lessons. Just like you should be.”

“What do you think?” Libertus demanded of Nyx as they started walking. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Very cool,” Nyx agreed. 

They were halfway home when he happened to pat his pockets and realize that they were empty.

“Shit.”

“Nyx.” That was his mother.

“Sorry. I don't have the key to the office.”

Everyone stopped.

“Did you have them with you when you left the office?”

“I remember seeing you lock the door,” Libertus said. “You must have.”

“Why don't you retrace your steps?” Selena suggested. 

“I don't know that there's anything else to do,” Mrs. Ulric said. “We'll wait dinner for you.”

“I'll come with you,” Libertus offered good-naturedly. Together, they turned around and started re-tracing their steps, searching the ground as they went.

“Do you remember if you had them during the speech?”

“No? I don't know? I wasn't exactly thinking about it.”

The grass was long in the square, and they ended up crawling through it on their hands and knees, searching. The crowd had since disappeared and the sun was setting. 

“You know,” Libertus huffed as they searched. “I bet the king never loses his keys. I bet he doesn't even have to carry his own keys.”

“Probably has tons servants for that. Probably has one servant that's the designated key-carrier.”

“Probably has another one whose only job it is is to hunt for lost keys in the palace.”

“Hang on,” Nyx said. The light was growing dim, but he could just make out the glint of something shiny in the trampled grass. He dug it out of the dirt. “Got it.”

They stood and turned to head back home. Nyx's eyes widened as he caught sight of a familiar-looking motorcycle idling near the corner. He grabbed Libertus's sleeve and yanked him back. 

“What's the big id-” Libertus began. He stopped when he saw the look of warning on Nyx's face. “What?”

“Turn around, start walking,” Nyx said. “Don't run.”

Libertus did as Nyx said, following him as he turned down a side street. “What? Why are we not headed back to the post office?”

“Didn't you see that motorcycle?” Nyx asked.

“Yeah! It was awesome!”

“It belongs to the guy from the post office today.”

“Oh, crap,” Libertus said, realizing. “The one you mouthed off at?”

“Yup.”

“Just a coincidence, though, right?” Libertus said. “He wouldn't...he wouldn't actually be following us, would he? I mean, it was just a joke.”

“Funny thing,” Nyx said. “I have a feeling he isn't the kind of guy who can take a joke.”

“So shouldn't you go home? He can't get to you there.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I want him to know where I live? Where Selena lives?”

“Okay, he might be mad, but he's not going to come after your family. He wouldn't hurt your sister. Nobody's that crazy, right?”

“I'd rather not find out,” Nyx said. He took another sharp turn down a different street and Libertus almost jogged to keep up with him. They both came to an abrupt stop when they saw the guy from the post office. He was blocking the end of the alley, leaning casually against the side of the building, smoking a cigarette. Nyx and Libertus turned around in an equally casual manner and headed down a different street.

“Can we run now?” Libertus asked. 

“Not yet.” Nyx said. “Keep walking.”

The streetlamps were beginning to blink on, and windows were beginning to glow with light. They turned down another alley in an attempt to get to the main street, only to find their path blocked again, this time by a different stranger who looked equally douche-y. They reversed their path, and as soon they were around the corner and out of sight, Nyx hissed, “Now. Run.”

They two boys took off running as fast as they could. It wasn't long before they heard feet pounding behind them. Nyx led them down random alleys and streets, doubling back when it sounded like their pursuers were trying to head them off. It was a small town, however, and there were few places to run. It wasn't long before they were sprinting pell-mell out of town and down the road towards the enormous grain silos just down the road. Nyx didn't have the faintest clue what he was going to do when they got there, except maybe lose them in the small grove of trees nearby. Even that didn't seem very hopeful. 

They had almost reached the silos when Nyx heard Libertus cry out. He turned and skidded to a halt when he saw that the douche had Libertus by the back of the collar. Libertus was struggling, but he couldn't break free.

“Libertus!”

He wavered. The douche's friends came stampeding up, and it turned out that there were five of them in total, all with equally stupid hairstyles. If he ran now, he might be able to get away. But Libertus was struggling in the douche's arms and it was Nyx's fault for not keeping his mouth shut in the first place. So he stood his ground, putting on the most intimidating expression he could muster.

“Look what we have here!” the older boy said, still keeping a firm hold on Libertus. His friends prowled around, forming a slow, lazy circle around Nyx, cutting off his only escape route. “This is the one I was telling you about. He thought he was pretty clever with me earlier.” He grinned broadly at Nyx, who swallowed. “Bet you're not feeling clever now, are you?”

Nyx assessed the situation. Every one of the boys was at least a head taller than him. No doubt they hadn't the faintest clue how to fight beyond throwing wild punches, but the fact still remained that he was hopelessly outnumbered. There was nothing to be done but hope to draw their attention solely to himself. Maybe they would forget about Libertus.

“Hey,” Nyx said. “I don't think I caught your name earlier.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah, well, listen. Maybe I said some things earlier that were...a little bit out of line. Were they true? Sure. But still, I shouldn't have said them.”

That did the trick. The douche dropped Libertus, although another of his friends grabbed him instead. He and the rest of his friends descended on Nyx. Nyx got in one good swing, a punch that landed solidly on the douche's nose. That was all he managed before his arms were pinned behind him. He lashed out as best he could, kicking and headbutting, but more hands reached out, holding him still. 

The douche grinned, blood trickling from his nose, and punched Nyx squarely in the face. Nyx's head snapped back from the force of the blow, but the boy holding him grabbed his head and shoved it forward again where it was met with another blow. Nyx saw stars. He felt the fist smash into his nose, his cheek, his jaw. He staggered and would have fallen but for the hands holding him upright. He could feel the blood running down his face and somewhere, it seemed distantly, he could hear Libertus yelling bloody murder.

Someone kicked him in the back of the legs and his knees buckled, sending in falling forward. He felt his face connect with the gravel and the blows continued to rain down. The best he could do was try his best to protect his head. This left his abdomen exposed and he felt their boots kicking him mercilessly in the ribs. Stars danced in front of his eyes.

Somewhere, through the pain and the noise and the stars the floated in front of his vision, he heard something. A distant rumbling. Was the ground shaking slightly, or was that just his head spinning? Before he could truly process this, the hands that held him down were gone. The blows stopped.

He felt a different hand touching his shoulder and he flinched instinctively, bracing himself.

“Nyx! Nyx!” It wasn't the douche. It was Libertus. “Can you hear me?”

Nyx coughed and tasted blood. Libertus grasped his shoulder firmly and helped him roll over onto his back. The small action made him gasp in pain and clutch his abdomen. He squinted his eyes open to look around. Libertus was crouched beside him, red-faced and anxious. It was dark out, too dark. It wasn't safe to be out this late.

“Where'd they go?” he tried to ask. His words came out slurred as his jaw didn't seem to be cooperating.

“Don't know. We need to go. Now.”

Libertus's voice was urgent and his eyes were serious. He reached out and pulled Nyx's arm up over his shoulder.

Nyx winced and tried to pull his arm away. The smallest movement sent stabs of pain running up and down his body. 

“Look, I'm sorry, but we've got to get out of here,” Libertus insisted. Before Nyx could muster the words to protest, Libertus had hauled him up and set him on his feet. Nyx coughed, spat a mouthful of blood in the road, and groaned loudly as the movement pulled at his sore ribs.

Libertus made a sound of frustration and turned so that they were both facing the empty fields at the side of the road. “Look!”

Nyx looked, squinting through the one eye that wasn't already swollen shut. The field seemed to be glowing red, sparks shooting out of it. The ground was rumbling, quaking beneath their feet, and Nyx was so unsteady that if Libertus hadn't been holding onto him, he probably would have fallen again. Before their eyes, a giant whirlpool of swirling light appeared in the field. They both stood, paralyzed with horror, watching as a red giant pulled itself from the whirlpool. It towered over them, over the trees, and everything in the vicinity. Its flaming sword glowed against the darkness.

“Time to go,” Nyx stuttered. 

“Way ahead of you,” Libertus said.

They turned back towards town. Libertus was practically pulling Nyx along and they moved as fast as they could. Neither of them mentioned the fact that no matter how fast they moved, the red giant was going to catch them as soon as he started moving. The only way they had any chance at all was if it somehow hadn't noticed them.

Nyx felt his insides jarring as Libertus jostled him along. He couldn't breathe properly and his legs felt like they were about to collapse beneath him. He coughed and felt the blood coating his teeth. Libertus was going too fast and his legs couldn't keep up. He stumbled, his knees connecting solidly with the pavement. He gasped in pain.

The red giant roared, its eyes on them. 

“Nyx!”

Nyx staggered to his feet, one arm wrapped around his middle, bent over at the waist. This was it. He couldn't run fast enough. Not like this. They were defenseless.

Libertus rushed in front of him, bodily placing himself between the giant and Nyx. 

“Libertus! Get back!”

He envisioned his friend being crushed, thrown aside, beaten to a pulp. He struggled forward, trying to reach Libertus. He wished desperately for his father's kukri, although even as he wished he knew it would do no good. 

It was moving towards them now, crossing the space between them in giant strides. It raised its flaming sword and Nyx hoped desperately that Selena wouldn't be too upset with him for dying.

Without any warning, a bolt of lightning blasted into the giant, running down its body and into the ground like a lightning rod. The giant roared in fury, whipping around to find the source of the lightning. Nyx looked, too.

A line of black vehicles had stopped at the side of the road. A figure stood, silhouetted in the darkness, lightning shooting out from his palm. Nyx didn't have to make out his face to know that it was the King.

Libertus hit the ground, covering his head with his hands and pulling Nyx down with him. The guards that had stood with the king earlier were rushing the giant, attacking it from every side. From his position on the ground, Nyx watched as the King blasted it with lightning again and it howled, smoke rising as its skin seemed to melt off. It gave one last dying howl before melting back into the ground.

“Holy shit,” Libertus breathed. Nyx could feel him shaking. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”

Nyx agreed heartily.

The guards came rushing over and pulled them to their feet. “Are you boys all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Libertus said, patting himself as though checking to be sure. “Holy shit!”

One of the guards got a good look at Nyx. “Are you sure? You don't look so good.”

Nyx gestured wearily at his face, still keeping one arm wrapped around his torso in a stabilizing manner. “I'm fine.”

“Are they all right?”

Nyx jerked his head up. The King was there and he looked concerned.

“Yes, uh, Your Majesty,” Libertus stammered, clearly starstruck. “We're fine. Thanks to you, uh, of course. Thank you.”

Nyx's head was still spinning, both from the bizarre nature of the situation and the number of blows it had sustained. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he echoed.

King Regis took a closer look at Nyx. “You're injured.”

“I'm fine,” Nyx said, feeling his face flush. This wasn't exactly how one envisioned meeting their king. “This happened before. It wasn't the daemon.”

“All the same,” Regis said. “Clarus! A potion.”

The potion was brought and the King pressed it into Nyx's hand. “Take it.”

“Th-thank you.”

The King gave him a strange look. “What is your name?”

Nyx was dumbfounded. Was it not enough that King Regis had just saved his life? Why did he care about his name?

“Nyx?” Why was it a question? “Nyx Ulric.”

“Nyx Ulric,” the king repeated, scrutinizing him so closely that Nyx felt uncomfortable. “Do you not know that it is unsafe to roam the country at night?”

“It was a mistake, Your Majesty,” he said. Libertus nodded. “Won't happen again.” It was impossible to sound dignified when his words wouldn't stop slurring together.

“I hope not,” the King said. He sounded like he meant it. The two nodded dumbly, watching as the King and his entourage returned to their vehicles and drove off into the night.

Libertus reached down and pinched himself. “Did that actually just happen?”

Nyx sagged against him. “I'm gonna say yes. It definitely happened.” 

\----

Libertus walked him all the way to the bottom of the stairs up to the Ulrics' apartment, at which point Nyx had insisted he was fine. The king's potion had lessened the pain, although it hadn't made it vanish.

“Well,” Libertus said doubtfully. “If you're sure. What a night, huh?”

He turned to go.

“Lib.”

Libertus turned back. 

“You could have run and left me. But you were ready to take on that giant with your bare hands. Which was...completely stupid.”

“Yeah, I know.” Libertus grinned sheepishly. “Still, what else was I supposed to do? You could have run away after that guy grabbed me. But you stayed and got your ass kicked. Which was also stupid. That's how this whole friend thing works, right? You help me, I help you.”

“Right,” Nyx said. “Still. Thanks.”

Libertus turned away, still grinning to himself, and disappeared off into the night.

Nyx headed up the cramped staircase, dreading what would happen when his mother and Selena got a good look at him. 

“There you are,” his mother said. “We were beginning to worry. Did you find the keys?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, fiddling with the lock some more, not wanting to turn around where they would see his face.

“Well? Where were they?”

“Back where we watched the speech.”

He turned around.

Mrs. Ulric gasped. 

“Nyx Ulric. What in the name of the Six happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing, really. It was my own fault anyway.” He sat down heavily on the couch.

Mrs. Ulric said nothing, but stood and went to the fridge. She returned and sat beside Nyx, holding out a bag of ice. He accepted it gratefully, pressing it gingerly into his throbbing face. The cold felt wonderful.

“I hope you're not going to insult my intelligence by telling me that you fell down, or something like that,” she said.

He actually laughed at that, wincing at the resulting flare of pain. “No. I said something stupid. To the wrong person. It was true, but it was stupid. He didn't like it very much.” He told her the whole story. She listened without saying a word until he got to the end, at which point she simply reached up and switched the ice to the other side of his face. 

“Is it feeling any better?”

“Maybe a little.”

She reached over and pulled him into a gentle hug. His exhausted body melted into hers and they stayed like that for a moment. She ran her hands through his hair gently and didn't mention the fact that the bag of ice was probably dripping all over her shoulder.

“Selena and I can't lose you, too,” she whispered into his hair. “We're a family. And that means we have to stick around for each other.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

Her voice was muffled. “I think I ought to be angry with you. But I'm just so glad you're all right that there isn't room left to be angry.”

They sat in silence for a moment longer before she whispered again. “You're going to need to learn to control that mouth of yours.”

“I know.”

Selena burst into the room at that point. She took a moment to take in the scene before her, and to notice the impressive amount of bruising on Nyx's face. “WHAT HAPPENED?”

The entire story had to be repeated, and then repeated again in greater detail because Selena couldn't control her excitement upon finding out that Nyx had met the king. Her excitement turned to rage when she found out that there was an individual out there, presumably quite safe and healthy, who had hurt her brother. 

“Who is he?” she demanded. “Where does he live?”

“I don't know.”

“Why not? What are we going to do to him?”

“You're going to stay far away from him, that's what,” Nyx said. Mrs. Ulric had dosed him with a healthy amount of painkillers and he was already beginning to feel drowsy. 

Selena put her hands on her hips. “He can't hurt me. He'd get arrested if he hurt me, wouldn't he?”

“We're not going to find out,” Mrs. Ulric said. “Nyx and I already discussed it. We're going to leave him alone. We don't ever need to see him again.”

Selena thought that was a stupid idea, and she launched into an extensive monologue about exactly how stupid it was. Nyx fell asleep halfway through it, ice still pressed to his face. 

\----

It was 10 days before Nyx could see out of both eyes again. Even after that, the bruising on his face remained prominent. Libertus told him it looked cool and Selena told him, much to his concern, that she was still looking for the guy who had done it.

It was on his first day back to work that Nyx told Libertus his plan.

“I want to join the militia.”

Libertus stared at him blankly. “You want to get beat up again?”

“I want to learn how to not get beat up again,” Nyx corrected him. 

“You can learn to fight without joining the militia.”

“Sure. But it's more than that.” It was hard to explain. “I've been thinking about it a lot. When you and I were on that road, and the daemon was coming, we were helpless. _I_ was helpless. Sure, King Regis came, and that was great. But what if it had been someone else being attacked? What if I had been the one driving by? I wouldn't have been able to help them. I wouldn't have been able to do anything.”

Understanding dawned behind Libertus's eyes. “You want to save people.”

“Yeah.” That was it, really. 

“You think they'll let us? We're only 14.”

“Hang on.” Had he misheard Libertus? “Us?”

“Sure,” Libertus shrugged. “You don't think I'm gonna let you do that by yourself, do you?”

“This wouldn't be a game, Lib. This is serious.”

“So I am.”

“You don't have to do it just because I am.”

“Who says I am?” Libertus asked. “Maybe I want to save people, too.”

Nyx smiled, and the bones in his face still ached at the movement. “Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“All right. Let's do it, then.”

 

They went to see the Captain of the militia, the same man Nyx remembered talking to at his father's funeral. He listened to them and, to his credit, only looked at them a little dubiously. “Don't you boys think you're a little young?”

Nyx pulled himself up a little straighter and hoped his bruises made him look tough. “We're both 14, sir. And I believe you knew my father.”

The Captain's face softened a little around the edges. “I certainly did. Ulric was a good man. I have no doubt his son is, as well.”

“We just want to do our part, sir,” Nyx said. “Help keep Galahd safe from the Empire. From the daemons. It's our home, too.”

“That it is.” He crossed his arms. “Very well. Your first day of training is tomorrow. 7 a.m. Don't be late. And don't expect me to go easy on you, either.”

“No, sir.”

“Go on then. Get out of here.”

\----

It was 2 months later when their certificates arrived. Signed by King Regis. Marking them as official, active members of the Galahdian militia. Nyx pinned it to the wall above his bed. He didn't delude himself into thinking the king remembered him, or anything about the incident on the road. For King Regis, it had probably been just another day. But for Nyx, it was something more. If it wasn't for the King, he would be dead. And he couldn't escape the feeling that somehow, it was up to him to pay that back to the world in whatever way he could.


	4. The Girl

“Remind me again why we thought joining the military was a good idea?” Libertus grumbled.

“Technically, it's not the military. It's the militia. I'm pretty sure the military is worse.”

“Oh, well, great. Nyx, for future reference, if I ever tell you I want to join the military, please shoot me first.”

Nyx grinned at his friend. “Duly noted.”

It was a choppy autumn morning and the two friends had just finished the morning training session with the militia. The air was brisk, but they were hot and soaked with sweat despite the chill. It was Nyx's idea to head to the river to cool off. It was his day off, one of the few days of freedom he got from the post office, and he intended to spend it as lazily as he possibly could. Libertus, of course, was always agreeable to such a plan.

They reached the river to find it sparkling in the morning sun, cool and inviting. Nyx eagerly dumped his gear under the tree, and was in the process of removing his shirt when he heard it. He stopped, shirt twisted, half on and half off, and listened. It had been quiet, but distinct. It sounded like someone or something rustling in the undergrowth across the river. Now that he stopped to listen, however, all he could hear was the sound of a crow calling from an overhead branch and the water rushing downstream. He decided it must have been a passing animal.

He threw his shirt on the ground with the rest of his gear and bent to roll up the legs of his pants. But there it was again. The rustling sounded closer this time. More deliberate. 

“Shh.” He held up a hand to Libertus. 

“What?”

“Do you hear that?”

They both stood still as statues and listened. 

“I hear literally nothing,” Libertus said.

“Me neither,” Nyx admitted. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he had, in fact, heard something.

“Quit being paranoid,” Libertus said and then, to further emphasize his point, he pushed Nyx into the river. He jumped in after Nyx, who promptly forgot all about the noises. It wasn't until he had been in the river long enough for his fingers to begin pruning that he was reminded of it. This time, he saw it. He was sure of it. The underbrush in the woods on the opposite side of the river was moving. It was subtle, but distinct. Someone or something was hiding in the bushes and watching them. 

He didn't say anything to Libertus. He just splashed his friend and swam to the far side of the river, climbing up the rocks onto the bank.

“I gotta pee!” he yelled to Libertus. “Be right back!”

“I don't need to know that!” Libertus yelled back.

Nyx wandered casually into the woods, pretending to take no notice of the quiet rustlings nearby. He deliberately turned his back on the rustling. It moved closer, and he could almost imagine that it was someone taking a step, pausing to gauge if Nyx had heard them, and then cautiously taking another. He waited patiently until the rustling stopped.

Then, as quickly as he could, he whirled around, lunging into the bushes and reaching out for the person he knew must be there. There was a scuffle and someone yelled, but Nyx held fast, dragging the lurker out into the open. The lurker was small but strong, and was fighting him mightily.

“Who are you?” he asked roughly, shaking the stranger. “Why were you watching us?”

The stranger didn't answer, just yelled again, and bit him on the hand. He yelped in pain and surprise and snatched the hand back, reaching out with his other hand to grab the lurker. The small, violent person responded by kicking him in the shins. It was at that particular moment that Libertus burst through the trees, dripping wet. 

“I heard shouts. What's going...” he trailed off as he took in the scene before him... “on?”

“He bit me!” Nyx protested, outraged. He stepped back quickly, narrowly avoiding another kick to the shins. 

“Careful,” Libertus said. “I think you're hurting her.”

“Her?”

“It's a girl, Nyx.”

Nyx looked down. He still had a firm grip around the small person's upper arm, as they were still tugging and trying to pull away. He looked closer and realized that Libertus was right. It was a girl, small and skinny, with tangled brown hair, and covered in dirt. She was breathing hard as she struggled against him, glaring up at him with fierce brown eyes.

Nyx let go with such abruptness that she fell over. She picked herself up swiftly, turning to run back into the woods.

“Wait!” Libertus said. “Just wait. We don't want to hurt you.”

She wavered, looking suspiciously at Nyx.

He held up his hands. “I didn't mean to hurt you, ok? I didn't know who was there. I was just being careful.”

She leveled a glare at him with such ferocity that he felt it cut directly through him. Then, distinctly, deliberately, she spat on the ground at his feet.

Nyx looked at Libertus. Libertus shrugged.

“I'm sorry, all right?” Nyx tried, again. “But there are literal teeth marks in my hand.”

“Are you all right?” Libertus asked the girl gently. “Are you hurt?”

She backed up one step, then another. She looked like at any moment, she might turn tail and run off. After a moment of uncertainty, however, she slowly shook her head.

“Look, where did you come from?” Nyx asked. “Who are you?”

She shrugged.

“Do you have a name?”

She stared at them. She blinked once. She didn't say anything.

“What? Can you not talk?” Nyx asked, a little exasperatedly. 

Libertus took a step forward, one hand held out non-threateningly. “My name is Libertus. This is Nyx. We didn't mean to scare you. What's your name?”

She said nothing, just staring at them like she didn't understand what they were saying.

“Are you looking for someone?” Nyx tried. 

She shook her head.

Nyx turned to Libertus. “Any ideas?”

“Don't look at me.”

Despite their confusion, or perhaps because of it, the girl seemed to have made up her mind that they weren't a threat. She pushed between them and made her way down to the river. They trailed slowly after her, although she ignored them entirely. Carefully, she climbed down onto the rocks until she was sitting with her feet dangling into the water. They watched as she dipped her hands into the water and began scrubbing the dirt from her skin. 

She was clearly done interacting with them, yet Nyx's curiosity got the better of him. Being careful to make no sudden movements, he sat down on the rocks not far from her. Libertus joined him and they watched in silence as she meticulously scrubbed first her arms and then her face. The amount of dirt coming off her was truly shocking and Nyx found himself wondering how long it had been since she had been able to wash. His mother would tell him that was a rude question. But then again, he was willing to bet that his mother had never been in a situation quite like this before.

Libertus cleared his throat. “Hey.”

The girl looked up, glaring at them.

“Are you hungry?”

She narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously, but was clearly interested. Nyx took note of her scrawny arms and legs, and wondered how long it had been since she had eaten.

“Are you hungry?” Libertus repeated, after some hesitation.

She nodded slowly. 

“Really? Well, great!” Libertus said, sounding more surprised than anything else. Nyx was surprised as well. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “So, you can come with us. We'll take you into town, get you something to eat. Yeah?”

The suspicion in her eyes turned to unmistakable fear as she scrambled to her feet and began to back away from them.

“I thought you said you were hungry?” Libertus faltered.

She didn't answer, just kept shaking her head, her eyes filled with suspicion. 

Libertus looked at Nyx for help. And it dawned on Nyx what the problem was. 

“She is hungry,” he said, realizing. “She just doesn't want to go into town. Is that it?”

She crossed her arms and nodded.

“Oh. Ok.” Libertus looked a little deflated. “Well, I can go get something. Bring it back. You can eat it right here. Is that ok?”

She nodded again.

“I'll come with you,” Nyx said quickly.

“No, you stay with her.”

“Why?” Nyx demanded. “She bit me. You stay with her.”

“Too late!” Libertus called, already running away. “I'll be right back.”

Nyx could have chased him, but he didn't. He glanced down at the strange girl. She glared at him again before sitting back down and continuing to wash in the river. Nyx stood awkwardly for a moment before climbing down onto the rocks and sitting beside her. She didn't look up, but scooted several inches away from him. Not enough to make a real difference, but enough to send a clear message: _Back off._

Nyx couldn't decide if he was more curious about the girl, or more annoyed by the bite marks she had left on his hand. Where in the world had she come from? The next settlement was more than a day's journey away on foot, through woods and over hills. And while he didn't know every person in his own town, he could say with absolute certainty that he had never seen her before. And why she was so scared and defensive? Why did she look like she hadn't eaten in weeks? Why wouldn't she talk?

He spent several minutes debating whether or not he should say anything. She didn't seem interested in talking to him, but it seemed the appropriate thing to do anyway.

“Look,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady in what he hoped was a non-threatening way. “I think we got started all wrong. I'm sorry I grabbed you. It's just that I could hear someone watching us. I was afraid it was someone dangerous. I didn't know it was you. I'm really sorry.”

He wasn't sure what he expected. Maybe he expected her to glare at him again, or ignore him altogether. What he definitely wasn't expecting was her to lift one hand and give him a thumb's up. She continued as she was without ever turning to look at him.

Still, he felt encouraged, and continued. “It's like he said earlier. My name's Nyx. I live around here, just down the road. I live with my mom, and my little sister. She might be around your age, actually – how old are you?” 

He didn't really expect an answer, and he didn't receive one. He kept talking anyway. “And that's Libertus you met, too. He's my best friend. He wouldn't hurt a fly, much less you. I'm guessing you don't want to tell me what your name is?” He barely paused for her to not answer. “That's ok, I guess. I can't imagine where you came from, though. There's nothing else out there, not for miles.” He kept talking, not because he expected an answer, but because it made waiting less awkward. 

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought she seemed a little less tense the longer he talked, the more he made it apparent that he didn't expect her to answer.

It wasn't long before Libertus came puffing back. He was carrying a plastic water bottle, as well as what looked like a hastily slapped-together sandwich wrapped in a napkin. “It's the best I could get in a hurry,” he apologized. “Sorry, it probably won't be very good.”

They both watched in astonishment as she snatched the sandwich from Libertus and began cramming it into her mouth faster than Nyx had ever thought was humanly possible. 

“Uhh...have some water,” Libertus said, passing her the bottle. 

The sandwich gone, she grabbed the water and unscrewed the cap to begin chugging down great gulps of water. She downed the entire bottle without stopping for breath. When she had finished, she carefully dipped the bottle into the river to refill it, screwing the lid back on.

“I...guess you liked it, then?” Libertus asked.

She let out a little sigh and wiped her mouth with her hand. Then, without any warning, she sprang to her feet.

“Where are you going now?” Nyx asked.

She said nothing, but gave them both a shaky sort of nod before turning and dashing back into the woods.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Libertus called after her.

But she was gone.

Libertus looked at Nyx, bewilderment splashed across his face. “What in the name of the Six was that all about?”

“I've never seen anyone eat anything so fast in my life," Nyx said. “Who do you suppose she was?”

Neither of them had any ideas that seemed to make sense, so in the end, they agreed that it was a mystery they would probably never know the answer to. It didn't seem likely they would ever see her again.

It didn't occur to Nyx to worry about her until he was lying awake that night. He wondered if she was indoors somewhere, safe from whatever daemons might be out hunting. He wondered if she had anything else to eat. And he wondered who she was.

\----

Nyx worked the next day, and didn't see Libertus at all. He sat behind the counter at the post office, but his mind was back down at the riverbank. Wondering about the strange girl. If she was still there. If she was long gone. The entire thing was so strange that he couldn't get it out of his mind.

He hadn't said anything about her to his mother or Selena. It wasn't that he was intentionally keeping it a secret, but the entire thing was so bizarre that he wasn't sure how he would explain it. So he said nothing. After all, what were the odds he would ever see her again, anyway? It didn't matter if he told them or not.

The day after that, he suggested they go to the river again after training. Libertus agreed, and neither of them mentioned the possibility of seeing the strange girl again. That didn't stop Nyx from tucking some extra food into his pocket. Just in case. 

Sure enough, as he and Libertus swam in the river, cooling off, the girl stepped out of the bushes and settled herself on the rocks. She watched them without saying anything. Nyx gave her the food he had brought and she wolfed it down like she hadn't eaten anything since the last time they had fed her. Again, they tried to make conversation and again she said nothing, running away as soon as she was done eating.

The third time they came to the river, she was waiting for them. When they arrived at the riverbank, she was already there, sitting on the rocks. She didn't say anything to acknowledge their presence, but when they sat down beside her she didn't move away. Libertus handed over the food that he had brought and she ate it like she had never eaten before. 

This time, when she had finished, she didn't run away. Instead, she cleared her throat, looked down at the water, and said quietly:

“My name is Crowe.”

Nyx wasn't sure if he had imagined it. He glanced sideways at her, but she was still looking down. Still, the look on Libertus's face told him he hadn't imagined it.

“Crowe,” Nyx said. “Nice to meet you.”

She jumped up and ran away.

Nyx threw up his hands. “And I really thought we were making some progress here.”

“Do you think it's a weird girl thing?” Libertus asked.

Nyx shook his head. “I give up.”

That was a lie, of course.

Two days later, they were back again and Crowe was waiting for them.

“Hey,” Nyx said.

To their eternal surprise, she answered. “Hi.”

“Brought you something to eat,” he said, handing over a leftover skewer from last night's dinner.

“Thanks.” 

It was as if a wall had come down. She made no acknowledgment of the fact that she had only spoken four words to them up until that point. For whatever reason, though, it appeared that she had decided to trust them at least enough to talk.

“So,” Nyx said, cautiously deciding to probe. “Can I ask where you're from?”

“Pretty far away.”

Vague and unhelpful.

“How did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“By yourself?”

She pretended to look around. “Do you see anyone else?”

“Where do you sleep at night? Aren't you worried about daemons? Monsters?”

“Nope.”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “I'm just not.”

“It isn't safe to stay out here though. Are you sure you don't want to come into town?”

“Pretty darn.”

“Ok. Where are you going?”

“Not sure.”

Nyx wasn't sure what else to say. 

Libertus laughed. “I don't know who you are, but you just left Nyx Ulric speechless. That's good enough for me.” He held out a hand to Crowe for a high-five. She hesitated for a moment, before slowly smiling and slapping his hand.

\----

This became the pattern. Nyx and Libertus would go to the river to find Crowe waiting for them. She would eat whatever they brought her, and talk with them. She either avoided their questions altogether, or gave them vague answers that might as well not have been answers at all. 

And yet, inexplicably, their friendship grew. Since Crowe adamantly refused to go anywhere near civilization with them, they turned elsewhere. They explored every inch of the river bank, climbing the rocks that rose to steep heights on either side of it. They climbed the tallest trees in the woods. They roamed the valley and the maze of pot-holed back roads that spread out around them, discovering hidden ponds and lakes, and they climbed the hills and small mountains that stretched up higher than anything else around, from which it seemed they could see the entire island.

Slowly but surely, Crowe grew more comfortable around them. She talked more and eventually began to reveal a wickedly sharp sense of humor which she would often exercise at the expense of one or both of them. She was smart, she was capable, and she feared nothing until one of them would make mention of their town. Or of other people.

One day in particular, they had climbed partway up a hill so high that they could see for miles in all directions. Far below them, they could see the Galahd River, a silvery ribbon that coiled and wound its way through the valley like a snake. Across the valley rose more mountains, and at the bottom of the valley was their town, spread out like a tiny doll's village.

“That's where we live,” Libertus said, pointing. “You'd like it there.”

“If you and Nyx are there?” she teased. “I doubt it.”

“That hurts my feelings,” Nyx said.

“I'm serious,” Libertus said. “There's loads of good stuff there. My parents aren't that exciting. But Nyx has a little sister, and she's pretty cool. There's food – lots of it. Nyx and I are part of the militia, and-”

“Wait,” she stopped him. “You and Nyx are soldiers?”

“Not really,” Nyx told her. “We're more like...pseudo-soldiers. In training. Sort of.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What? No!” Libertus said. “What do you think we are, anyway?

“So, what do you do?” 

“Good question.” Libertus turned to Nyx. “What do we do, exactly?”

“Get out asses kicked in training, mostly.”

“Still. You're telling me there's a military force in your town?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Then I wouldn't like it,” she said flatly. She turned and headed back down the hill.

They exchanged a confused look before following her.

“You don't understand,” Libertus said. “The militia is there to protect people. In case the Empire attacks. In case a daemon strikes. It's to help save people. Not hurt them.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Whatever you say.”

“What do you mean, whatever?” Nyx said.

“Look, can we just stop talking about it?” she snapped. “I'm not coming with you. I'm not going around other people. So just quit asking me, all right?”

They stopped mentioning their home after that.

Despite her disdain of their military affiliation, she was excited when she saw Nyx's kukri for the first time. 

“I have one that's kind of similar!” she said. Her knife was longer than his, and straighter. She took it out to show him. “Are you any good?”

“I'm amazing,” Nyx said. “Thank you for asking.”

“He's a liar,” Libertus said. “He's average, at best.”

“Better than you,” Nyx shot back with a grin.

“Do you want to maybe practice? With me?” she asked excitedly.

“I...guess,” he said. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Ooo, someone sounds awfully confidant,” she said. “Come on!”

“If you're sure,” he said. 

They faced off against one another and Libertus jogged a safe distance away. “I'm gonna just wait here.”

Nyx sized her up carefully. He was obviously heavier than she was, and probably stronger, but she might be faster. It was hard to tell. Furthermore, she held her slender knife in her left hand, which caught him off guard.

Before he had decided how best to attack, she struck first, darting in quickly and slashing at him from the right. He caught the blow easily, but was surprised by how strong she was. He shoved her blade off his own and responded with a blow of his own. She danced out of the way so fast that it almost threw him off balance. She grinned widely at his obvious surprise. 

She attacked again, a series of blows designed not to hit him, but to unbalance him, before striking again, a blow that he barely caught in time. He let her press him backwards, watching her style. Her patterns. He noticed the opening she would leave after striking from the right. When she struck in a particularly deep lunge, he took the opportunity to slip through her defenses, whirling away from her slash and ducking under her arm. Before she could turn to block him, he had her. He held the point of his knife to her back, just enough to let her know that the fight was over and he had won.

She laughed. “You're right. You're good.”

He removed the knife from her back. “You are, too. How did you learn?” He refrained from asking where. 

She shrugged. “There was a woman I used to beg lessons off of. Back before.....well, never mind. Other than that, I taught myself, mostly.”

“That's...impressive.”

She bowed dramatically. “Well. I'm an impressive girl. Go again?”

They went again. Nyx won again. They fought a third time, and this time Crowe won, catching Nyx in a careless mistake. They began a fourth time, because Crowe insisted that she was on a winning streak. 

Something was different this time, however. She was tired, and he remembered, guiltily, that he had had three full meals every day since he could remember. Probably the only thing she had eaten that day was the food they had brought her. He got past her defenses easily, tapping her gently in the ribs. 

She stumbled to her knees, letting out a small, pained sound. Nyx dropped his knife in an instant, horrified that he had accidentally hurt her. He rushed to her and knelt beside her.

“Crowe! Are you all right?”

The moment his hand touched her shoulder, she let out a scream and rolled away from his touch. An invisible force hit him like a punch to the sternum, knocking him over backwards. Before he knew what was happening, his head was slamming into the ground and he found himself staring up into the sky.

“Nyx!” Libertus had been running to Crowe, but he switched directions so fast that he almost fell over, and ran to Nyx instead.

Nyx, for his part, lay on his back, the wind knocked from his chest. He gaped like a fish for a moment, as his lungs tried to remember how to work. Libertus crash-landed to the ground beside him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Nyx! Are you ok?”

Nyx gasped a little as the breath came rushing back into his lungs. His head rang and stars danced at the corners of his vision, but everything seemed to be working. 

“I...think so,” he gasped out. “Holy shit.”

“What the hell, Crowe?” Libertus snapped, turning to her. 

Nyx, pulling himself into a sitting position, could see Crowe where she was still kneeling. Her eyes were wide with distress.

“I'm sorry,” she said. She stood, backing away. “It was an accident, I swear. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I'm fine,” Nyx said, as Libertus helped him up. “But what happened? How did you...?”

She only shook her head. “I'm so sorry!”

And then she was gone. She took off like a shot, running for the woods.

“Crowe!” Libertus roared after her. But she was gone.

“What. The. Hell.” Nyx said. “What was that?”

“I was too far away to see,” Libertus said. “She screamed and then you were just falling. Did she hit you?”

“That's the strange part,” he said, climbing to his feet. “She never touched me. But it _felt_ like someone punched me.”

Libertus spoke in a horrified voice. “You don't suppose she's like a daemon in disguise or something?”

Nyx sent him a skeptical look. “Don't be ridiculous. She's as human as we are.”

“Then there's only one explanation, isn't there?” Libertus declared. “It has to be magic.”

“That's impossible,” Nyx said. “Only the royal family can use magic. And the Oracle. How could she be using it?”

“So...she's a lost princess.” 

“You've been watching too much TV.”

“Well, then what?” Libertus demanded. “Do you have a better explanation?”

Nyx didn't. Still, the idea that Crowe was somehow, inexplicably, using magic? It was fantastical. Something out of a book. Not the kind of thing that just happened in everyday life. 

\----

The next time they came to the river, she wasn't there. They waited hopefully but she didn't come. Nyx decided that she was still upset about what had happened and he wasn't too worried. But she didn't show up the next time either, or the next. It wasn't until the fourth day of her absence that he began to be seriously concerned. 

“I don't know,” Libertus said doubtfully when Nyx voiced his concern. “She was pretty upset. And you heard her, she doesn't know where she's going. Maybe she just left. Moved on.”

“Where?” Nyx asked. “Where is there to go? Plus, it's dangerous out there! She could get hurt.”

“I know,” Libertus said. “But what are we supposed to do? She could be anywhere.”

Nyx knew Libertus was right, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they had been responsible for her disappearance. After all, he had been the one fighting with her when everything had gone wrong. He couldn't help feeling that he was at least partially to blame. What if she got eaten by a monster, or torn apart by a daemon? Wouldn't that be his fault? 

Libertus sighed. “We're going to look for her, aren't we?”

“You don't have to come.”

“The hell I don't,” Libertus snorted. “She's my friend, too.”

Nyx shoved the food he had brought for Crowe back into his pocket and they set out. They had no way of knowing where to look, so they revisited the places they had explored together. They searched both sides of the river. They climbed the mountainside. They cut a wide swath through the forest, calling her name, but hearing nothing in response.

As hour after hour passed without a trace of her, Nyx knew he should be relieved. The obvious conclusion was that she had simply moved on. Instead, he only grew more worried, picturing her lying someplace, horribly injured. Maybe a monster had attacked her. Any number of daemons could have devoured her these past nights. Would there even be remains left behind? Would they ever even know?

It was late afternoon by the time they stumbled upon the shack. Nyx had never seen it before, not during any of their wanderings and not once during his growing-up years. It was a ramshackle structure that looked like it would blow over at the first gust of wind, and yet was so weather-beaten that it looked like it has been there a hundred years at least. It was nestled up against the side of the mountain, tucked behind a large rock formation so that it was almost hidden from the casual passerby.

They almost didn't bother looking inside.

It was dark inside, as all sunlight was blocked by the mountainside. It took Nyx's eyes a moment to adjust. Inside was a small, single room. There was a tiny stove in the corner. A table with a chair. And a bed tucked into the corner.

Crowe lay on the bed, her body curled into a tiny ball. She wasn't moving.

“Crowe? Can you hear me?” He stepped forward uncertainly. She didn't move. Another step, and he was at the side of the bed. Tentatively, he leaned forward, just enough to make out the sound of her breathing.

“What's wrong with her?” Libertus asked.

“Dunno.” He shook her gently by the shoulder. “Crowe.”

No answer.

A little more forcefully. “Crowe!”

Still nothing.

Worriedly, he held his palm to her forehead, pulling it back immediately. “Astrals above. She's burning up.”

“She's sick?”

“We've got to get her to a doctor.”

“How?”

“How do you think? We've got to get her into town.”

“She wouldn't want to go!” Libertus protested.

“I think we're a little past that, don't you?” Nyx scooped one arm under Crowe's bent knees and another behind her neck and lifted her. He could feel the heat radiating off her, and could see the sweat beading on her forehead.

“Are you sure?” Libertus wavered. “She'll be so pissed when she wakes up.”

“Maybe, but at least she will wake up,” Nyx said. “Are you gonna get the door for me, or what?”

Libertus shook his head, but got the door.

The return to town took too long. Nyx went as fast as he could with Crowe in his arms, but he had to keep stopping and hitching her up higher into his arms. She was light, but she was just tall enough that carrying her was awkward. She stirred occasionally, mumbling incoherent strings of words and moaning softly. Libertus took a turn carrying her for a while before giving her back to Nyx.

It wasn't until they were already climbing the steps up to the little apartment over the post office that he realized he hadn't even stopped to consider what he was going to tell his mother and Selena. Still, it was too late for doubts. He barged open the door with his shoulder, carefully trying to keep Crowe's head from smacking on the door frame.

“Mom! Selena!”

Selena came out from the back room. “Mom's working. She won't be back till morning. What are you yelling about?”

Selena's eyes went wide as she took in the scene before her and she saw the girl slumped in Nyx's arms. Nyx dumped Crowe rather unceremoniously on the couch. Crowe mumbled something unintelligible in response.

“Who is she?” Selena asked. “Where did you find her? What's wrong with her?”

“I don't know,” he said. “She's got a fever and she won't wake up. We need to get the doctor.”

“I'll go,” Libertus said, and was out the door faster than Nyx had ever seen him move.

“Do you know what made her sick?” Selena asked. Nyx could almost see her shoving her questions aside for the sake of dealing with the immediate problem. “Was it something she ate? Was she hurt? What is it?”

“I have no idea,” Nyx said. “We found her and she was just like this.” Strictly speaking, that was true, but it seemed to imply that they had just stumbled upon her today by chance. 

“Grab me some of those fever tablets from the bathroom,” she ordered. “That'll be something, at least.”

Eager to have something to do, Nyx rushed for the bathroom, fumbling through the medicine chest until he found what he was looking for. He rushed back to Selena and practically shoved them at her. 

“Don't give them to me,” she snapped. “You're going to have to crush them and we'll see if we can get her to drink a few of them.”

The crushed pills formed a purple-ish powder that they then mixed with water. Nyx lifted Crowe's head carefully while Selena held the cup to her lips and tried to get her to swallow. Even in her sleeping state, Crowe moaned and turned her head away.

Selena's mouth settled into a hard, firm line. “What's her name?”

Nyx told her.

“Crowe?” Selena asked. “Crowe, can you hear me? We need you to drink this, ok? It's going to make you feel better.”

Crowe mumbled something, but remained in a fitful sleep. Slowly, patiently, Selena got her to drink the entire cup, one tiny swallow at a time. Nyx got a wet cloth and draped it across Crowe's forehead, simply because he wasn't sure what else to do. 

It was at that point that Libertus came bursting back in the door, panting, with the doctor behind him.

Nyx and Selena stepped back as the doctor knelt next to the couch. He bombarded them with questions, most of which Nyx didn't know how to answer. _How old was she? Did she have any allergies? Did she have any underlying medical conditions?_ They hovered nervously in the background while he examined Crowe.

“Have you already given her anything?”

Nyx handed over the pill bottle and the doctor snorted. “Well, at least you didn't actually do any damage.”

“What's wrong with her?” Nyx asked. 

“She's very sick,” the doctor said. 

Nyx resisted the urge to respond with, _no shit._ “I got that. What can you do for her?”

The doctor was preparing a syringe. “I'm going to give her a shot of this. It should bring her fever down.”

He rolled up Crowe's sleeve and swabbed her upper arm before injecting the syringe.

“And that'll make her better?” Libertus asked anxiously.

“With any luck,” the doctor said. He stood and repacked his things. “I'll stop back in tomorrow to check on her. In the meantime, let me know if she gets worse. Keep her warm and keep her hydrated Her fever should break in a few hours.”

So they waited. Selena went to bed eventually, leaving them with strict orders to wake her up if anything changed. Libertus ended up falling asleep still sitting at the table. Nyx tried to stay up to watch Crowe, but found himself dosing off as well, sitting on the end of the couch that she was lying on, with her legs practically in his lap.

He woke with a jolt, unsure of what had woken him. It was still dark, and the clock on the wall told him it was 3 in the morning. He looked down and saw that Crowe was awake and she was watching him.

“Crowe!” His voice rang out, too loud in the quiet apartment, and he hastened to lower it. “You're awake. How are you feeling?”

“All right,” she said. The worry in her face was plain. “Nyx, where am I? What am I doing here?”

“It's all right,” he said. “You're in my family's apartment. Libertus and I found you. You were sick and we brought you here.”

She shook her head. “I shouldn't be here. I can't be.”

“What are you talking about? You're sick. Of course you need to be here.”

“You don't understand,” she said tightly.

“I might if you told me.”

She didn't answer, and he sat there, in the darkness until he heard her breathing even out and he knew she had gone back to sleep.

He didn't mean to go back to sleep, but suddenly it was morning. Light was streaming in through the window and Crowe was gone. The blanket she had been covered in lay crumpled and empty on the couch beside him.

With the immediate crisis over, Selena demanded an explanation of the previous day's events. Nyx divulged everything, how they had met Crowe and how their relationship had grown. He held nothing back, and she listened, her eyes growing wider and wider.

“I just don't understand,” he finished. “What is she so afraid of? Why would she run away like that? She's perfectly safe here. There's nothing to be scared of.”

Selena sat beside him quietly for a moment, thinking about it.

“Just because you don't know what she's afraid of, doesn't mean it's nothing.” she said at last. “Whatever her reasons are, they must be good ones. No one is that scared about nothing. For whatever reason, the idea of being around other people scares her. You said she wouldn't even speak to you for days, right?”

“Right,” he said, remembering. 

“So even though you were trying to help her by bringing her here, it still crossed a line. It forced her into a situation she didn't want to be in. And she left as soon as she could. Can you blame her?”

“I guess not,” he admitted. It made sense, and he had known that, in a way. But hearing Selena put it into words made it make more sense, somehow. “She's probably long gone, then.”

“I don't know about that,” Selena said. “She might be waiting for you. You never know.”

\----

The next day, Nyx headed back out to the river. He didn't even tell Libertus he was going. He just went.

And there she was. Sitting by the river. Her back resting against the oak tree. Like she was waiting for him.

“Hi,” she said. She was pale, and she had her ragged coat wrapped around herself tightly against the cold, but she looked better. 

“Hey.” He sat down beside her. “How are you feeling?”

“Fever's gone. I still feel like crap, though.”

“Shouldn't you be resting?”

She gestured broadly at her sprawled pose. “What do you call this?”

“I mean, in bed.”

“What, like in your town?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Not likely.”

“About that.” He wasn't sure where to begin. “I'm sorry I took you there. I knew you didn't want to go, and I should have listened to you. I was just trying to help. I was...we were...really worried about you.”

She poked him. “I know. And I appreciate it. But I'm fine. I would have sweated it out eventually.” She coughed, a horrible, hoarse sound that reminded him she wasn't as well as she was pretending to be.

“I...just wanted to say,” he said. "I get it. I mean, I don't get it. But I'm trying to. I get that ...something...happened. Something bad. You don't want to talk about it. I don't want to make you.” 

He paused. The words were coming out all wrong. Still, Crowe sat silently, watching him and waiting for him to finish. 

“I guess...what I'm trying to say is...you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I've been wanting you to trust me, but I guess I never really stopped to trust you. So, I want you to know that I do. Trust you, I mean. And if you want to keep whatever happened private? That's your business. I trust you.”

She coughed again. “Wow. That was touching. Did you write that all down beforehand? Or was that strictly improv?”

“Totally improv.”

“Damn,” she said. “Your improv game is strong.”

“You're a little shit,” he told her.

“I ought to be. I practice every day.”

They grinned at one another, the air much clearer. Nyx felt like an enormous weight was lifted off his chest. He was still curious about Crowe, but he felt content to leave things as they were. It felt like things were right between them.

And then Crowe began to speak.

“Altius.”

“Huh?”

“That's my full name. Crowe Altius. I'm from a little tiny village. Smaller than yours. It doesn't matter where, you haven't heard of it. I don't have any family. I never did. I don't know who they were or why they were never there. I don't even know my birthday. I think I'm 15, but I don't actually know for sure. It's not like it really matters now, anyway.”

It was more personal information than he had ever heard he divulge, and she said it all so suddenly that he was left staring at her, slack-jawed in astonishment. She plowed on.

“I lived in a house run by this woman with a handful of other kids that didn't have anyone else. It was pretty shitty, but it was something. You know? And that was my life. Until things got weird.”

“It would be hard to explain, but you saw it the other day, so you know what I'm talking about. Things would just kind of... happen. At first, I didn't know it was me. And even after I realized it was me, other people didn't. They thought I was just clumsy. Or that these things were accidents. Coincidences. And I was scared. I couldn't control these...things. They just sort of burst out of me. It was normally pretty small stuff, so I got away with hiding it. I kept shorting out electrical circuits. I would accidentally freeze the water in the pipes. You know. Little things. No one caught on. Until they did.”

She paused to have another coughing fit, her chest rattling like it was going to break.

“It was last year. It was the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep and I went to go outside to get some fresh air. Someone grabbed me. I don't know who it was. It could have been a psycho murderer, or it could have just been some idiot trying to scare me. Either way, I panicked and tried to get away. I didn't do it intentionally, but it's like I said. These things just happen. One minute everything was dark and I was trying to get away from this person I couldn't see. Next minute, the porch was on fire. People came running, and they kept grabbing me and trying to get me to calm down. The more people grabbed me, the more I panicked, and more things kept bursting into flames. I couldn't stop it. The fire spread and soon the whole house was going up. They knew it was me. There was no way they couldn't have known.”

“They were terrified. Obviously. Who wouldn't be? There were people everywhere yelling and shouting and trying to put the fires out and someone thought...I don't know...I guess maybe they thought if I was gone, the fires would stop.”

She reached up and pulled back the neckline of her shirt to reveal the puckered scar that marked her shoulder like a brand. It looked like it had never healed properly. Her voice was strangely matter-of-fact as she continued. 

“Some over-eager person thought it would be a good idea to shoot me. I guess they thought they'd put an end to the whole thing. To me. I got hit, and I fell and no one reached out to help me up. Not a single person. Witch, I heard them saying. Abomination. Not one person helped me.”

Nyx's mouth felt dry. He fleetingly thought about his own misfortunes and wanted to laugh at them. His life suddenly seemed a charmed one. 

“I picked myself up and made my way out of town. When I couldn't walk anymore, I crawled. I patched myself up. I didn't die. I had my knife and I had this....magic. So I left. And I just kept going.”

She looked up to meet Nyx's eyes with a sudden intensity. “I take care of myself. And I take care of other people. I stay away from them because I could hurt them. And I wouldn't be able to help it. Like I hurt you. That was stupid to fight with you the other day. I should have known better.”

“You didn't hurt me,” he protested. “I'm fine.”

“Don't contradict me,” she said. “The point it that I _could_ have hurt you. Without even meaning to. It's risky enough even being around you and Libertus. I'm not about to put a whole town full of people at risk, too.”

Nyx was at a loss. What could he say to someone that had lived through something like that? What could his words possibly hope to do? “What happened – the fire,” he said, faltering. “That wasn't your fault.”

“I'm not stupid. I know that. But I still did it. And I might do it again. I have to be responsible and stay away from people.”

“That sounds lonely.”

She shrugged. 

“I just think-”

“Please stop.” She cut him off. “I know what you're going to say. You're going to try and convince me I'm wrong. That I'm overreacting.”

“No,” Nyx said. “I was going to say that... you're probably right. If you don't think you can control this magic, or whatever it is, then you're probably the best judge of that. And you're right, it isn't fair to endanger people who don't realize they're in danger. But what if I choose to be in danger?”

She looked at him confusedly. “What do you mean?”

“I choose to be your friend. I choose to hang out around you. Would it be fair to stay away from me, for my own protection, against my will?”

She frowned. “I can't ask you to do that.”

“You don't have to.”

He grinned at her until a small, crooked smile broke out across her face as well.

“You mean that?”

“Yep.”

Crowe looked down, but the smile stayed on her face, like she couldn't quite help it. “If you're sure...I mean, if you're really, really sure...I guess I could stay around. A little while, at least.”

“That shack we found you in,” Nyx said. “That's where you've been living?”

She nodded. “It's small, and kind of drafty. But it does the job.”

“We could help you fix it up,” Nyx offered. “Me and Lib.”

“That'd be nice.”

“We'll figure it out. And when - if - you ever feel like you could be around other people,” Nyx said, carefully, “you're always welcome with us. But not until you're ready. Deal?”

Crowe eyed his outstretched hand. “I don't know if you remember or not, but I'm kinda sick. I'm guessing you don't actually want me to shake your hand?”

Nyx withdrew his hand quickly. “Uh, right.”

She laughed, and coughed. “Still. Sounds like a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! You guys are the best!


	5. The Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyy guess who knows NOTHING about alcohol? Get ready for me to make an absolute fool of myself!! :)

“Is at least one of you going to be responsible tonight?” Mrs. Ulric asked. 

Nyx, Libertus, Crowe, and Selena all looked at one another guiltily. 

“Hm, doubtful,” Selena said.

“Speak for yourself,” Nyx said. “I'm extremely responsible.”

“My ass, you are,” Libertus said.

Crowe rolled her eyes. “Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Ulric. I'll take good care of these babies for you.”

“That's hilarious,” Nyx said. “She's the one we need to be keeping an eye on.”

Crowe reached over and covered Nyx's mouth with her hand, draping her other arm over Selena's shoulder. “Don't listen to him. We'll be fine.”

She steered them around towards the stairs.

“Nyx, remember that you have to work tomorrow!” Mrs. Ulric called after them.

“I'm trying not to!” he called back. “Isn't that the point of getting drunk?”

“I'm going to remind you that you said that,” Selena said as they exited the building and emerged onto the road. “Tomorrow morning, when you're moaning about how bright the sun is.”

Nyx reached over and flipped her braid into her face. “I never moan.”

That elicited hoots of laughter from all three of his companions.

“What?” he protested. “I don't.”

_“Crowe, I hate my job. I don't want to go to work,"_ Crowe mimicked.

_“Lib, I didn't get my coffee this morning. I can't do anything until I've had my coffee,”_ Libertus added.

_“Nyx, it's too early for training. Why do we have to do all these drills, anyway?”_ Nyx shot back, grinning.

“Listen, that is a valid complaint,” Libertus said. “There is no earthly reason for training to be scheduled so early. It's cruel and unusual.”

“It's good for you,” Crowe said. 

“Easy for you to say,” Libertus said. “You don't have to do it.”

“You don't live with me,” Crowe said. “You don't know how early I get up.”

“Enlighten me.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Not a chance.”

Their destination was a bar that was perhaps better described as a dump. The front porch sagged, and the roof leaked in the corners. It was always too crowded for the number of patrons that invariably overflowed out onto the porch. But it was the only one in town and so people kept coming back. 

The occasion was a special one. It was three years to the date since Libertus and Nyx had met Crowe. Nyx hadn't realized that, and neither had Crowe, until Libertus pointed it out and declared that such an occasion demanded celebrating. Which was why they found themselves at a bar on a Wednesday night.

A lot had happened in three years. Crowe still lived alone, outside of town. They had long since patched up the shack, and while it still could not really be called a “house”, it was warm and it was comfortable. 

In the beginning, she had refused to see anyone but Nyx and Libertus. Things had changed when Selena, who hadn't forgotten about Crowe, went hunting for her and stumbled upon her shack. Crowe had explained the situation to Selena, and told her why she had to stay by herself. Selena had said that that was fine, but that she couldn't stop her from visiting anyway. And through Selena's stubbornness and persistence, their trio had slowly evolved into a quartet. 

Crowe had gradually grown more relaxed. She tried to learn what triggered her magic. Tried to learn to keep it from bursting out uncontrollably. Cautiously, she grew more confident. She would visit them at home for an hour. And then for two hours. She learned to walk down the main street without worrying that she was endangering the lives of everyone around her, or worrying that someone might all try to kill her at any moment.

She had met Mrs. Ulric along the way, as well. Mrs. Ulric had unofficially adopted Crowe has her third child, even before she learned Crowe's story. She learned a somewhat abbreviated version, but it was still the truth. She had been horrified to learn that Crowe had been largely subsisting off the sandwiches and leftovers provided by Nyx and Libertus, and had taken it upon herself to introduce Crowe to the wonders of traditional Galahdian cooking at every opportunity.

None of which was to say that Crowe's slow re-introduction to the world hadn't been without a few hiccups. One night, she had had a nightmare and scorched a hole in the roof of the shack. On another occasion, she had accidentally frozen a section of the river in the middle of summer. She and Nyx had been sparring with their knives one time when she had accidentally shocked him with a tiny bolt of electricity. The incidents became fewer and farther between, and it seemed she was, somehow, gaining some kind of control over her magic.

All in all, perhaps Libertus was right. It had been a momentous three years. Maybe it was right that they should celebrate. 

“Honestly, though,” Crowe quipped as they entered the bar, “are you sure getting me drunk is the best way to celebrate? If I accidentally roast everyone in this bar, I'm holding you responsible, Lib.”

The fact that she was even making a joke about it spoke volumes.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked them as they slid onto stools at the counter. The place wasn't overly crowded, due to the fact that it was a weeknight, but there was still a fair number of people about.

“3 whiskeys,” Nyx said. “And water for her.” He pointed at Selena.

“Ignore him,” Crowe said breezily. “He doesn't even like whiskey. He's just trying to impress us. I'll just have whatever your red wine is.”

“Boring,” Nyx said, and then pretended to cough loudly to cover it up. “I'll have that whiskey. Lib?”

“Beer.”

“Selena?” Nyx asked. “You only get one, so make it count.”

“Who says I only get one?” she protested.

“Mom. Or at least, she'll tell me that tomorrow when she's telling me off if I let you get rip-roaring drunk. Go on, what'll it be?”

Selena ended up with a cider.

“So,” Nyx said to Crowe, when their drinks came. “How goes the life in the woods?” He ran his finger around and around the edge of his glass, debating whether or not he actually wanted to drink it. Crowe was right, although he wouldn't tell her that. He had never actually tried whiskey, and wasn't sure he really wanted to. 

“Oh, you know,” Crowe said. “Haven't set anything on fire in awhile.”

“I'll drink to that,” Libertus said enthusiastically. 

They all took a drink, except for Nyx.

Crowe smirked at him. “How's the whiskey, Nyx?”

He maintained eye contact with her as he took a long swig of it. It burned all the way down his throat and made his eyes water. He coughed. “Tasty.”

Everyone roared with laughter. 

“Here,” Selena said, reaching for his glass. “Why don't we get you something else?”

“No way,” he said, snatching it out of her reach. “I freaking love it. I'm gonna finish it.”

“You're so lame,” Crowe said, daintily sipping her wine. “Let's talk about you, anyways. How's that stupid job of yours?”

“You summed it up perfectly,” Nyx said. “Stupid. Not sure there's much else to add to that description.”

“So why are you still there?”

He shrugged lamely. “Dunno. We need the money.”

“There's plenty of places to work. You're worth more than the post office.”

“Gee, thanks. I'm touched, Crowe.”

Crowe flipped him off.

Libertus brightened. “Say, did he ever tell you about the time he got beaten up by an angry customer? And then we had to fight off a pack of daemons?”

Selena groaned. “Lib, we've all heard this story a hundred times.”

“What a hardship for you,” Nyx said. “You know, some of us actually lived it,” 

“Shut up, both of you,” Crowe said. “It's my favorite story and I want to hear it again.”

The story really had been told at least a hundred times, as Libertus was extremely fond of telling it. Each time it was told, it grew bigger. This time, there was a gang of 20 enormous muscled bikers who had jumped Nyx and Libertus, followed by the arrival of at least four red giants. Libertus claimed that he had fought off a couple of the bikers with his bare hands, and proceeded to describe, in painstaking detail, the horrible injuries he had suffered in the process.

“You're such a liar,” Nyx protested. He was on to his second whiskey because really, once you got going, they weren't so bad. “You didn't get a scratch.”

“I did too!” Libertus said. “Look at that!” He pointed dramatically to the side of his face. “See that? I'm scarred to this day.”

“You're so full of shit,” Crowe said. 

“Whatever,” Libertus said. No one could remember what number drink he was on, but he was growing progressively merrier by the minute. “I'm mentally scarred. Emotionally, too.”

“I'm emotionally scarred from 19 years of knowing you,” Nyx said.

“Please,” Selena said. “If anyone here is emotionally scarred, it's me. I actually have to live with this idiot.”

“You know, come to think of it, my shack is pretty nice,” Crowe said. “No drama, no idiot boys. You should move in, Selena.”

“Just say the word,” Selena said. She clinked her glass to Crowe's.

Nyx moved onto his third drink.

“My, my, aren't we feeling confident?” Crowe said. “You do have to work tomorrow.”

“Yes, mom,” he snarked. The room seemed to have grown warmer and his head was growing pleasantly fuzzy. The aches and pains from the militia's training regime seemed to have faded so far away that he couldn't even feel them. Why hadn't he discovered this whiskey stuff years ago?

“Fine,” she said. “Just don't come crying to me tomorrow.”

“I never cry,” Nyx said. “Duh.”

“Excuse me, miss?” The bartender put another glass down in front of Selena. “With compliments of the gentleman across the room.”

They all swiveled to look. The gentleman in question was young, with a beard that he was clearly trying and failing to grow, and he flushed bright red as they all stared at him. Selena had the good graces to smile at him. The other three just stared. 

“Nope,” Nyx said as they turned back around. “Definitely not.”

“He's kind of cute,” Crowe said. “In a baby-ish sort of way.”

“Still. Free drink!” Selena said.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Nyx said, swooping the drink away from her. “Not when my ass is on the line.”

“Mom wouldn't have to know,” Selena wheedled.

“Mom always knows,” Nyx said. “Better not risk it.”

“I'll finish it for you,” Libertus said suddenly.

Nyx looked at his friend. Libertus was wearing a goofy, droopy smile and his face was flushed with color. He smelled like a brewery. “How many have you even had?”

Libertus held up fingers, one at a time. One, two, three, four, five. “Six,” he said.

Crowe deftly lifted the glass from Nyx's hand. “I think this is mine, then.” She downed it swiftly. “Mm! Fruity!”

Selena looked discontentedly at her own long-empty glass.

“That's it,” Libertus said in a determined voice. 

“What's what?” Nyx asked. He was just sober enough to recognize that that was Libertus's I'm-about-to-do-something-stupid voice. 

“See her over there?”

They all followed Libertus's line of sight to see the girl he was staring at. She was by herself, nursing a half-empty glass of something, and was wearing a pretty purple top. 

“I'm gonna go say hi,” Libertus said confidently.

“Are you sure that's such a good idea?” Crowe asked.

“Did you not see her?” Libertus asked incredulously. “She's gorgeous. It's a great idea.”

“I think what she means is...are you going to do anything you'll regret tomorrow?”

Libertus shook his head and stood, putting his hand on Nyx's shoulder to steady himself. “Nope.”

Nyx chuckled. “I'll keep an eye on you, buddy.”

They watched him go. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but they could see him talking to the girl, and could see her smile in return. 

They drank in silence for a little while, before Crowe broke the silence.

“I really mean it, Nyx.”

“Mean what?”

“You get one life, right? You shouldn't waste it doing something you hate. That job is going to slowly suck your soul out through your ears.”

“Wow,” he said. “That's a little dramatic, don't you think?”

She reached over and flicked his ear fondly. “Maybe. But you get what I mean. You should quit it.”

“And do what?”

“Whatever you want. Hell, start your own bar. Give this shit-hole some decent competition.”

“A bar?” Nyx laughed. “What the hell do I know about running a bar?”

“You could learn.”

He laughed again, and maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the way the light seemed to have gone all gold-tinged. Maybe it was the warm feeling in his stomach. “Who knows?” he said. “Maybe I will.”

\----

Whoever suggested going drinking on a Wednesday night was an idiot, Nyx reflected bitterly the next morning. He was slumped on his usual stool behind the post office counter. His head felt like there was a heavy metal band banging away inside it, and the entire room seemed to be glowing so brightly he could barely look at it. His muscles ached and his stomach rolled and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. Then he pictured Crowe smiling at him and sing-songing, “I told you so”, so he gritted his teeth and stayed where he was.

The bell above the door rang cheerfully and he groaned to himself as he looked up to see who it was. To his immense surprise, it was Crowe. He was so startled that he momentarily forgot his discomfort.

She smiled brightly at him. “Well, don't you look awful!”

He winced at her too-loud voice. “Don't you look...fine. What are you doing here?”

“What kind of way is that to greet a friend?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said. “I mean, this is just...kind of unusual.”

It wasn't that she never came into town. Last night was proof enough of that. But her visits were always planned ahead of time. She had never just dropped in unannounced before.

“I know,” she said. “But this was important. I had an errand to run.”

“What errand?” He squinted at her through the halo of light that seemed to be surrounding her. Why did the walls of the post office have to be so bright and white, anyway?

Her smile turned mischievous as she produced a carefully folded sheet of paper from her pocket and passed it across the counter to him. “I needed to deliver your letter of resignation.”

“My....what?”

She practically danced with excitement. “Go on! Read it!”

He unfolded it. The words blurred together and it took his brain a moment to sort them out. 

_“Dear Sir or Madam,_

_I regret to inform you that I am tendering my resignation at this fine establishment, effective immediately. I have very much appreciated the opportunities I have been provided with here, but I feel that the time is right for me to move on.”_

The letter continued on for three more paragraphs, but Nyx stopped reading.

“What the hell is this?”

“You said last night that you might do it.”

“Might. I said I might. What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking of your best interests,” she said. “I figured you could use a little push, and I thought I would provide it.”

“I can't just...quit my job! We'll lose the apartment.”

“You'll get another one.”

“But my mom and Selena will...”

“...be fine,” Crowe finished smoothly. “I've been talking to your mother about you. She agrees with me.”

“But this?”

“Drastic measures, kiddo,” she said easily.

“You've got to get this out of here,” he said, handing the letter back to her. “Before my boss sees it.”

“Not a chance.” She held up her hands, refusing to take it.

“Take it!” He shook it at her.

“What's going on in here?”

Nyx whipped around so fast his head spun and he had to sit down again. His boss, a pudgy little man who always seemed to be chewing gum with his mouth open, had just entered from the back office. 

“Nothing, sir,” he said quickly, shoving the paper at Crowe. She grinned wickedly at him and shoved it back. He refused to grab it, and it fluttered to the floor between them.

“You're not fighting with the customers again, are you?” his boss asked tiredly. 

“Absolutely not, sir,” Nyx said. “She was just leaving.”

“Actually, I still can't make up my mind which stamp design I like best,” Crowe said. “Can you show them to me again?”

Nyx glared at her.

“Miss? I think you dropped this.” Nyx's boss stooped to pick up the rogue sheet of paper.

Crowe flashed him a dazzling smile. “Oh, that's not mine. That's Nyx's. I think he said it was meant for you, actually.”

Nyx's stomach lurched. It was too late to grab the paper. His boss was looking at it. Was he reading it? He definitely was. _Shit, shit, shit_.

“Ulric....is this...are you quitting?”

Nyx's heart hammered. He looked from his boss, who was looking at him quizzically, to Crowe. She was smiling smugly. And he realized that he already knew what he was going to say. “I am, sir. I...was going to tell you properly later today. But...yes. I am.”

_Damn it, Crowe_. 

\----

They discussed it that evening around the kitchen table. Nyx, whose hangover had finally worn off, explained what had happened. His mother and Selena seemed to find the entire thing considerably funnier than he did. They laughed so hard that, with the benefit of hindsight, he grudgingly saw the humor in the situation.

“It's funnier because I can just picture it,” Selena said. “The fact that you were so hungover you couldn't even see straight makes it so much better.”

He chuckled. “Ok, so it was funny. But it still leaves us with major problems.”

“Which we'll figure out,” his mother said.

“But the apartment.”

Mrs. Ulric shrugged. “I'm not saying that isn't important. But this was long past due. You needed to find something better. And this place is getting small for us anyway. We've got some money now. We'll find something. Don't worry.”

“And do what?”

She smiled at him in a way that was both reassuring and annoyingly knowing. “You'll think of something.”

\----

Nyx couldn't sleep that night. His mind was spinning with the sudden feeling of endless possibilities, coupled with the terrifying feeling that he had no options whatsoever. What did one do when you were suddenly told you could do anything?

“Do whatever you want,” Crowe had said. “Be your own boss.”

What did he want to do? It was a question he wasn't sure how to answer. He was used to doing what he needed to do. What was most practical to do. What was required of him and expected of him. But what he wanted? It wasn't something he often stopped to ask.

He ended up lying awake most of the night, and by the time the sun rose, he had an answer. A mad, crazy answer, but an answer nonetheless.

It wasn't the kind of idea that you sat on and stewed about for days. It was the kind of idea that you had to get off your chest immediately, before you lost your nerve and thought better of it. Which was why as soon as it was light enough to be safe, he was out the door and running to Libertus's.

“Why?” Libertus grumbled. “Why in the name of the Six did you wake me up at this hour on our day off?”

“Doyouwanttoworktogether?” Nyx said, all in a rush.

“Do I...what?” Libertus's eyes were still half closed. 

“Do you. Want. To work together?”

That got Libertus's attention enough to stop him yawning. “What do you mean? At the post office? Thanks, but I'll pass.”

“I quit the post office. Well, technically Crowe quit for me.”

“What? When?”

“Yesterday.” Nyx smiled a lop-sided smile at the look of confusion on his friend's face. “And I was thinking about what Crowe said yesterday. That shit-hole of a bar could use some competition. Neither of us know anything about running a bar, but...I mean...if you were at all interested...”

“Hang on, you're serious?” Libertus's eyes were wide. He looked like a puppy who had just been promised a treat. “You actually mean that?”

“I mean, it would be a ton of work. A ton of planning. It wouldn't be easy. It might not even work, and -”

“Answer the question.”

“Do you think I would come wake you up at this hour if I was joking?”

A smile broke out over Libertus's face like the sun coming up. He let out a whoop that Nyx imagined Crowe could probably have heard all the way from her shack. “Then yeah! Of course! Let's do it!”

“It's not going to be easy,” Nyx warned, slightly alarmed at the depth of Libertus's enthusiasm.

“Shut up,” Libertus said. “We're gonna do this. We're gonna have the coolest fucking bar in all of Galahd. In all of Lucis! When do we start?”

And it occurred to Nyx that maybe, things were going to be all right. Maybe they already were all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt the need to make this one a fluffy, happy chapter. Because sadness is on the horizon :( :(


	6. The Letter

He owned a bar. His best friend was his business partner. It was the kind of thing that he would say to himself in the morning when he woke up, and again at night before he went to sleep. He had to remind himself that it was real. And every time he said it, it amazed him. Sometimes he would stop to pinch himself while he was working, just to check. After all, what had he ever done to deserve a life as wonderful as this?

True to his warning to Libertus, it hadn't been an easy process. They'd bought the only building they could afford, which happened to be an old gas station, long since closed and on the verge of being condemned. They had gutted the place and refinished it. They spent so much in buying the building and the supplies to fix it up that there had been no money left to hire help to do the work. So they had done it themselves. Everyone had pitched in. Mrs. Ulric and Selena had helped whenever they could. Crowe came into town so much that they jokingly suggested she move in with them. For the first time since they had met her, she didn't shrink at the suggestion. Of course, she still flipped them off and told them they were full of shit. But with Crowe, that was just par for the course. 

The winter snows slowed their work, but by the following spring, it was complete. The run-down gas station had transformed a trim and tidy little bar. It was small, but it was bright and it was cheerful. 

And the customers followed. It helped that Nyx and Libertus were both well known and generally well liked. And it helped that their only competition was somewhat less than desirable. Business grew, and it wasn't long before they were well on their way to earning back the money they had spent in building it. 

Nyx brought the majority of his earnings home to help make ends meet. He didn't tell his mother and Selena about the small pile of money he was setting aside. He fell asleep at night dreaming of the looks on their faces on the day he would show them the money, and tell them that he had saved enough to buy their old house back. Their new apartment was better than the cramped one above the post office, but it wasn't home. It wasn't their old house, which sat empty, outside of town.

On Friday nights like this one, when the bar was full and Nyx and Libertus were so busy they could barely stop and catch their breath, Nyx imagined that this was as close to perfect as he had ever imagined life could be.

On Friday nights like this one, Libertus was in his element. He manned the bar itself, pouring drinks, chatting with the customers, and telling stories that drew roars of laughter from the listeners, although no one laughed as loudly as Libertus himself did. Nyx joined in when the conversation seemed to warrant it. He cleaned off dirty tables, and took out the trash, and broke up a loud, drunken argument that looked like it was in danger of turning into a loud, drunken brawl. 

He was in the process of counting money out in the register when Crowe slid onto a bar stool across the counter from him. “Hey, bartender,” she said flippantly. “Buy me a drink?”

“For you? It's on the house,” he said. “I assume you still want that red wine crap you drink?”

“Obviously.”

He poured her a glass. “It's been a few days since we've seen you. How're things?”

“Things are good,” she said. “Better now that I've got a drink.”

“You should come by stop by the apartment,” he told her. “My mom misses you. She says that you're due for another cooking lesson.”

“Mmm...if I were to poke my head in there tonight, would there be any of those heavenly skewers left in your fridge?”

“Maybe. Assuming Selena didn't hoard them all.”

“She's a crafty one,” Crowe said. “You've got to watch her.”

A big, beefy guy with an alarming neck-beard and sweat stains at his armpits planted himself in the seat next to Crowe. 

“Evening,” he said to her.

“Hey,” Crowe said. Her eyes met Nyx's and she telegraphed every ounce of her annoyance to him.

“I'll keep my eye on all of you, how about that?” Nyx said. 

He winked at her and she rolled her eyes. She was more than capable of dealing with unwanted male attention, and wouldn't thank him to do it for her. He made a mental note to check back in a few minutes, more for the stranger's safety than for hers.

In the meantime, he stuck his head into the back room. “Selena?”

Selena was behind the desk, sheets of figures spread out in front of her. She was sighing and twisting one of her braids around her finger in concentration. She looked up when Nyx entered.

“What?”

“Just wanted to give you a heads-up that I gave someone a free drink.”

“Nyx!” she scolded. “You can't keep doing that. It messes up the accounts. Things don't come out evenly and then I have to comb through this mess to figure out what's wrong.”

“But you're so good at it,” he said. “Which is why I let you do it. Also, it was Crowe.”

“Oh. Why didn't you say so in the first place? Crowe can have all the free drinks she wants.”

Nyx laughed. “I thought you'd say that.”

He reemerged into the main room to find that Crowe's admirer was gone and she was looking very satisfied with herself. The radio was playing a familiar song with a beat that made Nyx's feet want to tap, and Libertus was singing along at such an off-key pitch that it made Nyx want to cringe. The room was packed and he was beginning to feel the stuffiness of too many people crowded into such a small space.

It was at that moment that the alarm began to sound.

Nyx's gut reaction was to clap his hands over his ears at the noise. It was a high-pitched, wailing siren that made the hairs on his arm stand on end. For a moment, he wasn't sure what was going on. He had only ever heard it once before. He had been 7 or 8 and a few small daemons had entered the sanctuary of streetlights that lit the town. The militia, including his father, had rushed to the scene from their scattered locations and the situation had been dealt with. No one had even been hurt.

Nyx had forgotten what it sounded like. So, apparently, had everyone else. The bar went silent as everyone froze in their tracks. All conversation ceased as the blaring siren screamed over the sound of the radio, which still played cheerfully. 

And then the chaos began. People stood up so fast that chairs went crashing to the ground. Voices rose to a fever pitch as everyone began babbling and pushing and shoving one another, trying to get to the door. Someone screamed, which made someone else scream. The siren kept wailing.

Nyx's heart began beating fast. This was it. This was what they had been training for. Against all odds, it had come. “Libertus!” he called over the confusion. “This is us! We have to go.”

For a brief moment, Nyx saw the look of fear on his friend's face. Then Libertus clenched his jaw and nodded resolutely. “What about all these people here?”

“We've got to get them to stay here,” Nyx said. “They can't go outside.”

Even as the words left his mouth, people were already beginning to stream out into the street. Who knew where the daemons might be? They could be waiting around any corner. These panicked people were going to go running directly into the very danger they were trying to escape.

Nyx did the first thing he could think of. He climbed up onto the bar, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled. “HEY!”

He wasn't sure his voice would carry over the siren, but the people stopped running and pushing. They turned to see him standing on the bar, doing his best to avoid sticking his head into the ceiling fan.

“Nyx,” someone said, quite close to him. He looked down. Selena stood behind the bar. She nodded up at him determinedly.

“Everyone needs to stay calm! And everyone needs to stay here. We don't know what's out there. You're safer in here.” In retrospect, maybe not the most comforting thing to say.

“The militia is assembling as we speak,” he said, and he hoped it was true. “In the meantime, you all need to stay here. Keep the lights on. Keep each other safe.”

He saw a few determined nods from the crowd. All he could do was hope that something he said would stick, and these people wouldn't rush out to their own doom. He jumped down from the counter and Libertus was there, holding out Nyx's kukri to him.

“I'll take care of things here,” Selena said. “You be careful.”

Nyx reached out and hugged her, quickly. “Stay safe.” He looked around for Crowe, but she seemed to have vanished into the crowd. Maybe for the best.

He and Libertus let themselves out the back door and into the night.

Outside, the town was bright against the black sky. Every street lamp was lit and every window seemed to be blazing with light. The lights were so bright that the stars were hard to make out. What were the daemons doing here, anyway? 

The siren kept screaming as he and Libertus ran across town. They almost collided with numerous people, running, screaming, and panicking. As far as Nyx could tell, no one was being attacked. But people were panicking anyway.

“Go home!” he yelled at people as he passed them. “Get inside!”

The militia headquarters was a flurry of activity. Members were scrambling around, grabbing gear and weapons.

“Sir!” Nyx almost ran into the militia captain, whose hair was sticking up on end like he'd just woken up. “What's going on?”

“Assemble with the others!” the captain barked.

“Why?” Nyx asked, confused. “Shouldn't we just go, now? People could be getting hurt!”

“And I don't want you to be one of them! I don't want anyone running into this without backup. Not on my watch.”

“But -” Nyx started to say more, but Libertus grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back with the others. 

“Just shut up,” Libertus said.

It felt like hours until everyone was assembled, although in reality, it was probably only several minutes. There were only 13 militia members, but Nyx had never imagined it could take them all so long to get ready.

“Here's what we know,” the captain explained, his hair finally flattened down. “At least one daemon was sighted at the east end of town. We have no word on numbers or size. We have no idea what we're walking into, so I don't want anyone trying to play the hero tonight. We stick together. We keep each other safe, and we keep the civilians safe. Understood?”

The group nodded, and Nyx looked at the faces around them. The expressions he saw there ranged from outright terror to eerie calm. He wondered what his own face looked like.

When they made it to the east edge of town, it turned out that there wasn't just one daemon. It was a small hoard of goblins. It was hard to make out how many, maybe 5 or 6? As far as Nyx could tell, there was no one was nearby who was in immediate danger. The goblins were just wandering up and down the street, and Nyx realized what the problem was. The streetlamp in the area had burned out, which was likely what had attracted them.

The captain said something that Nyx missed entirely, but next thing he knew, the entire group was charging the daemons and he found himself running alongside them. One of the daemons let out a scratchy sort of screech, alerting the other goblins to their presence. Nyx felt the rush of adrenaline to his system as he drew back his arm and slashed with his kukri.

If he was being entirely honest, it was a bit of a blur. His kukri bit through solid flesh, and the daemons fired bursts of red magic in retaliation. He dodged and slashed and whirled and out of the corner of his eye, he saw flashes of Libertus doing the same. 

It was a short matter, in the end. The daemons were small and relatively weak. It was quick work to finish them off. By the last daemon dissolved into a pool of swirling mist, the blade of his kukri was actually dripping in red-tinged daemon goo, and he wiped it off on his thigh.

Not far off, Libertus was bent over, hands on his knees, and Nyx had a moment of panic. Was he hurt?

“Lib!” He grabbed his friend by the shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Libertus straightened, looking positively green. “Yeah, fine. Is it over?”

“I think so,” Nyx said. 

“That was disgusting.”

Nyx patted him on the back and took a deep breath. That was it. They were done. Everyone was ok. There was nothing to worry about.

“Nyx! Libertus!”

Nyx turned to see their captain approaching them.

“We'll clean up here. I want you boys to just do a quick perimeter check. I don't expect you to find anything, but it's better to be cautious.”

“On it, sir,” Nyx said. 

“Remember what I said. No heroics. You see anything, come and get the rest of us.”

“Understood.”

They set off at a brisk pace. The streets seemed deserted. Everyone seemed to have barricaded themselves indoors, and there were no more daemons to be seen. The siren had finally stopped, as well, and the only sound as they made their perimeter was the sound of Libertus's harsh breathing. 

As the continued on their way, Libertus made a sudden gagging sound. “Hang on a second,” he said.

Nyx stopped. Libertus dashed to the side of the road and bent over double. Nyx could hear him throwing up.

“All right?” Nyx asked as Libertus returned, shakily wiping his mouth.

Libertus waved him off. “Fine. Let's get this over with so I can go home and pretend this was all just a terrible dream.”

They were about halfway around town when Nyx stopped so suddenly that Libertus bumped into him.

“Is that my imagination, or...?” Nyx let his voice trail off.

Libertus swallowed audibly. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Standing at the edge of town, towering over the buildings, was an iron giant. Its dark skin made it almost difficult to see in the night. The sounds of his huffing and snorting, however, were unmistakable. For a moment, Nyx was 14 years old again, beaten and bloody on the side of the road with only his best friend and his bare hands, facing down a monster similar to this. Only this time, the King wasn't there to help him. 

He drew his kukri. Libertus's hand flashed down and caught him by the wrist.

“You're joking if you think the two of us are going to take that on alone,” Libertus said. His voice was low in an attempt to avoid attracting the giant's attention. It didn't seem to have noticed them yet. “You heard the Captain. We call the others.”

“By the time we went and brought them back, this thing could destroy half the town.”

“Or it could do nothing. Look at it. It's just standing there.”

“We can't take that chance,” Nyx said. “Listen. You run back. Bring the others. I'll keep my eye on it.”

“On your own? Are you crazy?”

“What other option do we have?” Nyx whispered violently. “We can't just leave it here.”

“Then I stay with you. We take it on together.”

“No. You have to go bring the others.” Libertus was clearly not convinced, so Nyx hastened to add: “I'll just watch it. If we're lucky, it won't even notice me until you get back.”

Libertus sighed, the protest on his face melting into resignation, and Nyx knew he had him. “I'll be right back. For the love of all, don't do anything stupid.”

Libertus ran back the direction they had come, leaving Nyx to turn and face the giant. It wasn't doing much, just pacing restlessly back and forth, puffing great clouds of breath out of its nostrils, its black sword glinted dangerously in the moonlight. Nyx hung back in the shadows of a nearby building, just watching it. With any luck, he could stay hidden until the others arrived.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the siren began to sound again. _Shit._ The giant roared, turning towards the sound of the siren, which also happened to be the center of the town. Its roar practically shook the earth as it bellowed at the sky before taking two giant steps forward. The pavement of the road cracked under the giant's weight as it began thundering towards the center of town.

Nyx's heart jumped in his throat. The others wouldn't make it in time. He had to do something and he had to do it fast, or people were going to die.

He was moving before he had even thought about what he was going to do. He dashed out from the shadows and yelled up at the giant as loudly as he could. He waved his arms in the air before gripping his kukri tightly and striking as high as he could reach, which happened to be about the giant's knee.

The giant noticed him the same way a person might notice a fly. Still. It noticed him, and it stopped moving. Its attention was on Nyx, which was exactly where Nyx wanted it. The giant swung its mighty sword, but Nyx ducked between the giant's legs and slashed at its more exposed side. The swing of the giant's swords was so strong that Nyx was staggered by the gust of wind it created. But for all the giant's strength, its size made it slow, and its attacks were easy to see coming. He ducked and dodged and kept slashing and cutting. Despite that, he knew with a sinking feeling that his attacks must be tantamount to paper cuts, and that he would grow tired long before the giant would.

His mistake came when he was ducking out of the way of yet another swipe of the giant sword and failed to brace himself for the giant foot that stomped hard on the ground, right next to him. The pavement cracked and Nyx stumbled to the ground from the shock of the miniature earthquake. He rolled and tried to pick himself up, but he wasn't fast enough. A giant hand reached down and grabbed him. He was lifted off the ground and brought level with the giant's glowing red eyes. It roared at him, spewing black mist that made him gag as he felt the fist tighten around him. He had a vision of his ribs snapping like toothpicks and his inner organs busting as the giant prepared to squeeze him to death. He took a deep breath and held it, bracing himself for the pain.

The pain didn't come.

Instead, a burst of flames fell from the sky, raining down on the giant's head like divine judgment. The giant howled as the sparks sizzled through its skin, leaving smoking holes in their wake. It looked up to find the source of the flames and in doing so, relaxed its grip on Nyx. It wasn't much, but it was just enough for him to free his knife from where it had been pinned to his side. Nyx saw his chance. He leaned forward as far as he could from his trapped position and slashed at the giant's exposed neck.

The giant roared in pain and anger before stumbling to the ground. It opened its fist and Nyx dropped like a stone, hitting the pavement in a roll as best he could. His jacket was smoking and traces of flames were licking along his sleeve. He frantically beat the flames out before looking up wildly to see the source of the mystery fire.

There, on the roof of the closest building, was Crowe. She was silhouetted against the night sky, hair blowing wildly in the wind, a look of grim satisfaction on her face. “Finish it off!” she yelled at Nyx.

He scrambled to his feet to stand over the downed giant, which appeared to be struggling to regain its footing. Nyx raised his father's kukri and plunged it into the daemon's chest, as hard as he could. It bellowed, and black goo oozed out of the wound, coating the knife and Nyx's hand. Red smoke curled off its body in a loud hissing noise as the daemon seemed to slowly dissolve, melting back into the ground like it had never existed in the first place. 

The kukri dropped free and Nyx stumbled to his knees, panting. He looked up to the rooftop again. Crowe was gone.

Exhaustion flooded his body and he remained where he was, on his knees, until Libertus brought the entire militia company stampeding up to him.

\----

“You were told to wait for others! Not to go running into danger on your own just because you felt like it.” The Captain's face was like a thundercloud as he yelled at Nyx.

“I-”

“Did you even stop to think about the idiocy of your actions?”

“Technically, I think-”

“You could have been killed in an incident that should have been completely avoidable!”

Nyx happened to think that he had actually come out pretty well. His knee was throbbing from having landed on it after falling from the giant's fist, and one of his legs had a small burn on it. His hair was slightly singed and he was dirty and bone-tired, but he was in one piece. He opened his mouth to express that very thought, but the captain waved him off.

“All that being said, we'll probably never know how many lives you saved tonight.”

“Sir?” Nyx was sure he must have heard him wrong.

“What you did was rash, and stupid. But...as you tell it, perhaps there wasn't a better choice to be made. Whether or not your actions were misguided is up for debate. Either way, the fact is that you saved lives tonight. And for that, I'm grateful. We all are.”

Nyx wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he didn't.

“All I ask in the future is that you have a little more regard for saving your own life.”

The Captain's face finally softened. “Get home. Get some rest. And don't blame me for whatever your mother says when she sees you.”

\----

Nyx's mother's mouth was set in a straight, grim line as she took in her son's grimy appearance and listened to what had happened. Nyx did his best to spare her some of the finer details, but he had a feeling she could guess them and more. 

When he finished, she took his face in her face. “I love you, and I'm very proud of you,” she said. “I know that I ought to be praising you for how brave you were. But just stop and think how you would feel if it were Selena who went charging straight into the path of every danger she saw. ” 

His reaction must have shown on his face, because she continued without waiting for an answer. “I know you feel like it's your job to protect everyone. But I'm your mother. That means it's my job to protect you.”

Nyx felt a horrible rush of guilt. Of course his motivation had been to protect people from the daemons. But if he were being honest with himself, was there not some small part of him that enjoyed the adrenaline rush? Was there not some small part of him that enjoyed being a hero? He had never given a thought to how his family would feel about his so-called heroics.

“I know that you're an adult now. You don't have to listen to a word I say. But please, just stop and think about all the people who would be hurt if anything happened to you.”

Thoroughly chastised, Nyx wrapped his arms around her and apologized, promising to be more careful. To remember her.

Everyone was in too much of an uproar to do much sleeping that night. When Nyx finally did collapse into bed, at some godforsaken hour of the morning, he was awake just long enough to hear Selena come tip-toeing into his room and crawl into bed beside him like she hadn't since they were kids. 

\----

Word spread around town like wildfire. Nyx Ulric had taken down an iron giant. By himself. Some people said it was two giants. Some people said that, no, it had definitely been three. A steady stream of people kept stopping by to thank him and tell him what a hero he was. 

It alarmed Nyx. Because of course, it hadn't been by himself. He would have been crushed to a pulp if it hadn't been for Crowe's intervention. She had saved his life as much as he had saved anyone's.

“Don't you dare tell,” she warned him when he told her this. “If you tell on me, I swear I'll.....I'll...”

“I won't,” he hastened to assure her before she could decide exactly what she was threatening him with. “But it just feels wrong. Everyone keeps telling me how amazing I am and how grateful they are. I feel like a liar. A liar and a fraud.”

“You're not a fraud. And you did take it on by yourself. You were doing fine, too. All I did was distract it. You were the one who killed it.”

He gave her a look to tell her exactly what he thought of that statement and she laughed. “It's for the best this way. Trust me. You're practically a celebrity, at least for a week or two. Think of all the new customers that will bring in!”

There was still one question that he had to ask her. “How did you do it?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, avoiding his eyes even though he knew she knew perfectly well what he meant.

“I thought you couldn't control it.”

“I can't. Not really, anyway.” She sighed. “It's hard to explain.”

“I'm listening.”

“It's like....I don't know, a rabid dog, or something. You can't train it. You can't teach it to obey commands. All you can do is find a strong enough chain to keep it from running loose and hurting anyone. And that's what I do every day - I try to keep in from getting free. So the other night, I just let go of the chain for a minute. But it's not control. It's just... letting a mad dog off the leash and hoping it attacks the right person." She shrugged. "Does that make any sense at all?”

“Sort of,” Nyx said. “But whatever you did. Thank you.”

“Honestly, I had so little control over it that I'm just glad I didn't hit you.”

Nyx was startled. “Wait, what? That was...a possibility?”

Crowe laughed.

“No, hang on, I think we need to talk about this more...”

\----

Cleanup after the daemon incident took weeks, which meant that Nyx, Libertus, and the rest of the militia were pulled into the effort. Between his duties there and his time at the bar, Nyx was busier than he had ever been. He only went home for a few hours at night to sleep, arriving after his family was long asleep, and was normally out again in the morning before they were awake. He lost track of what day it was entirely, caught up in the endless cycle of working.

Which was why he was utterly mystified to come home one night to find an envelope on the table with his name written on it. He opened it to find a sheet of paper covered in what was unmistakably his sister's handwriting in purple ink.

_Dear Nyx,_

_Happy 20th birthday!_

_It's weird to write a letter when we live in the same house, but you've been working (I think?) so late that we never get to talk, so you'll just have to read this in my voice._

_I made you a good luck charm to commemorate the occasion. I've been working on it for a while, and it's pretty sweet, right? I put a lot of work into it, so hold onto it, will you? It's meant to be Titan, the Archaean. Whenever I hear the old stories about him, he makes me think of you a little bit. Trying to hold up the world all by yourself._

_I know Mom kind of gave you an earful about what happened with the daemon. And we never really had a chance to talk about it. I just want you to know that I am so, so proud of you. You're so good at helping people, Nyx, and you have such a big heart. But I worry that your big heart gets in the way of your head sometimes, and makes you do stupid things. All I'm asking is that you remember how much we want you to come home. Please take care of yourself. Hopefully, my little good luck charm will be of some help there._

_Honestly, I'm laughing as I write this, because I can just picture the dopey look on your face right now. I bet you forgot your birthday is tomorrow (well, I guess it's probably already today by the time you read this). But I didn't forget, and neither did anyone else, so you'd better be here tomorrow at a decent hour to celebrate!_

_Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. No excuses, you old man, you!_

_Love,_  
_Selena_

He tipped the envelope into his palm. Out fell a small wooden carving in the shape of the old god Titan, bent beneath the weight of the meteor. It was crude, but recognizable, and small enough to tuck into his pocket. As he looked closer, he saw, however, that the astral wasn't alone. Carved in miniature beside him was a small girl, barely tall enough to reach the bottom of the meteor shard, but still doing her best to take her share of the burden. The smile that broke over his face was so big it almost brought tears to his eyes. 

And he had to pinch himself. This was real. This wasn't a dream. He could barely believe it. After all, what had he ever done to deserve a life as wonderful as this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank everyone enough for reading and leaving me comments and kudos, etc! You're all rock stars! Thanks so much for reading and being awesome!


	7. The Things You Can't Forget: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just wanted to give a little heads up before this chapter and warn you all that it's kinda violent. I don't think it's super graphic or anything, but I also know that everyone has different sensibilities about that, so I just wanted everyone to be aware.

They had been planning it for days. Nyx, Libertus, Selena and Crowe were going to climb the mountain that overlooked their town. It dominated the landscape in every direction, being far taller than any of the other hills around, and was covered in deciduous trees that gave way to pine forests the higher up the mountain you climbed. They had been up it many times over the years, but had never climbed to the very top. 

Of course, things never worked out exactly as planned. On the morning of the great adventure, Selena woke up to a sore throat, a pounding headache, and a touch of fever.

“We won't go today,” Nyx told her. “We'll wait until you're not sick. It's not like the mountain's going anywhere.”

She waved him off. “Of course you should go. You planned your whole schedule around this. When else are you and Lib going to be able to take the day off together? Just tell me all about it afterwards, ok?”

“We'll go again, sometime,” Nyx told her. “Just you and me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Get some rest, ok?”

She was asleep before he was even out the door.

Outside, the whole world was glorious and bright. It was the time of year when the height of summer was just beginning to taper off into autumn. The air smelled of flowers and grass and dirt and sunshine. Birds sung from every tree as Nyx, Libertus and Crowe climbed the hillside.

As they climbed, Libertus positively refused to stop singing. It was some annoyingly repetitive song that had been playing almost nonstop on the radio for weeks, and every time they thought he was finished, he would open his mouth to start the first verse again. Nyx and Crowe would groan and try to cover his mouth with their hands, but they could still hear his muffled singing.

“That's it,” Nyx told Libertus as he started on the chorus for the 13th time (Crowe was counting). “Next time we're leaving you home.”

“Baby, I love you, I, I, I, I love youuuu,” Libertus warbled. “Oh, baby, I, I, I, I love youuuu. And no matter what you do, I will not forget youuuu!” His voice cracked as he attempted to hit a note that was far above his vocal range. 

“Stop, please!” Nyx begged, clapping his own hands over his ears. 

“I'll stop if you sing with me,” Libertus said. “Just once. Come on, all together now!”

Crowe rolled her eyes at Nyx, but she joined in with Libertus and Nyx gave in as well. None of them could sing, but their three off-key voices joined together and rang out, echoing their enthusiasm off the side of the mountain.

“Hey, look!” Crowe broke off mid-chorus. “I have found us sustenance for our long and arduous journey!”

Her “sustenance” turned out to be a couple of misshapen apple trees, long since forgotten and wild on the side of the mountain, the branches heavy with the ripe fruit. None of the three friends were quite tall enough to reach the hanging fruit, and the tree branches looked too unsteady to climb. So Libertus hoisted Crowe up onto his shoulders and she picked all the apples she could reach, dropping them down into Nyx's waiting arms. 

“Move...a little....to the right," Crowe directed. “Little more.” Libertus obediently did as he was told. The pile of apples in Nyx's arms grew until he couldn't reach out to grab the ones she was dropping. He tried to position his armload directly beneath her to catch them as she dropped them.

“Whoops!” she said at one point. “Look out below!”

The apple in question slipped from her hands before landing squarely on Nyx's forehead as he looked up in alarm at her warning. 

Crowe laughed so hard she almost fell off Libertus's shoulders. 

“You did that on purpose,” Nyx complained, rubbing the red splotch on his forehead.

“No, but I wish I had!” she said.

Libertus swept her down to the ground, also laughing, and Nyx joined in. 

They continued up the hillside, munching the sweet apples as they went and stuffing their pockets with the ones they couldn't eat. Every few minutes, someone would make a noise imitating the sound the apple had made bouncing off Nyx's forehead, or someone would hum a few bars of the song and they would all start laughing again.

By the time they reached the top, the sun was high overhead and everyone was sweating so much from the steep climb that they had stripped off any access layers of clothing. Libertus was threatening to go shirtless, but Crowe had drawn the line at that, claiming she didn't want to be blinded. 

The view from the top was stunning.

“I haven't been up here in years,” Nyx said. “We came up here when we first met you. Remember, Crowe?”

“I remember. Only we didn't get this high.”

“We were being considerate of you,” Libertus said. “Gosh, remember how skinny you used to be?”

“I remember keeping up with you two just fine,” she retorted.

“You know what I remember?” Nyx asked. “You hiding in the bushes and watching us in the river.”

“Can't say I blame her,” Libertus said. “We were extremely good-looking.”

Crowe pretended to vomit. “Keep dreaming. I remember that day too, you know. I remember thinking, 'ugh, I wish these two idiots would hurry up and leave so I could get to the river in peace.”

“Didn't you bite Nyx?” Libertus asked.

“Yes. I'm still holding a grudge,” Nyx said.

“You grabbed me!” Crowe protested. “What was I supposed to do?” 

“And you've always been such a charmer, Nyx,” Libertus said. 

“What can I say?” Nyx grinned. “I have my moments.”

Crowe winked at him, but turned her attention to the stunning vista stretched out beneath them. “You can really see everything from up here! Look, you can even see the ocean! ”

She pointed, and Nyx saw that she was right. The ocean was just barely visible, a hazy purple line on the horizon, tucked between distant mountains.

“I've been there,” Libertus said. “I think I went with my parents when I was really young. I don't really remember it.”

“We went to one of the northern islands once,” Nyx said. “I just remember Selena having a fit because she didn't like any of the food.”

“What about you?” Libertus asked Crowe.

"Never been," she said. "We should go sometime."

It was a long walk back home, so they didn't stay long before turning around to head back down. They passed the time by playing catch with the leftover apples they were still carrying. Two of them would flank the remaining person, tossing an apple back and forth while the person in the middle did their best to intercept the pass. 

Crowe, who had grown tired of trying to reach apples thrown too far above her head, was in the process of tackling Nyx for the apple when the peaceful afternoon quiet was broken by the unmistakable sound of a deafening explosion.

They stopped in their tracks.

“What was that?”

Their view was now obscured by the trees that grew up all around them, meaning they had no way to see the valley below them.

“Probably nothing, right?” Libertus asked uneasily. 

Probably. Of course it was nothing. Still. Nyx's heart began beating like a tambourine as he raced to the nearest climbable tree and pulled himself up. Hand over hand he climbed, stepping from one branch to the next until he was above the tree line and could see into the valley below. And then his heart stopped. 

Far below lay his town, the same as it always had. Except. Hulking black airships circled in the sky above it like buzzards. More airships moved through the sky, although whether they were heading to other settlements, or returning from their ruins, Nyx didn't know. Even from the great distance, he could see the smoke and the flames rising. _Selena. Mom._

“What is it?” Crowe called anxiously from below. “What's going on?”

Nyx climbed down so fast he didn't stop to look where he was going. About halfway down, he missed his footing and fell the rest of the way, smacking into the ground like a rock.

“Nyx!” That was Libertus. “What the hell is going on? What did you see?”

Nyx scrambled to his feet. His heart was doing a wild dance inside of him and the wind had been knocked out of him, so it was a moment before he could answer. “The Empire,” he gasped out. “Niflheim. They're here.”

He watched as understanding and panic awoke on their faces.

“What....why? Why here? Why Galahd?” 

“It doesn't matter. We have to go. NOW.”

They didn't say anything else. What else was there to say? They just ran. The mountain slopes melted away beneath them as they thundered down the path that had taken them hours to climb earlier. It still took too long. It gave Nyx time to imagine hundreds of possible scenarios. Hundreds of mental images of his family dead, dying, wounded and in pain. He gritted his teeth and sprinted faster. He could stop this. He could fix this. He had to.

They emerged from the woods on the far bank of the river, diving headlong in. The water was cold, but Nyx barely even noticed it. They were close enough now that he could hear the roar of the airships' engines. He could hear the sound of gunfire and screaming. 

He started to run again as soon as they climbed out on the opposite bank, but Crowe grabbed him by the collar to pull him to a stop.

“What are you doing?” he hissed. “We have to go!”

“We will. But we can't just go charging in there like this. That gets us dead, and that doesn't help anyone. We need a plan.”

“The militia!” Libertus said, as though it had just dawned on him. “The militia must be assembling. We just need to join up with them and everything will be fine.”

Anguished, Nyx looked at the town, the nearest buildings just visible in the distance from their vantage point. He could smell the smoke, could see it curling into the air like a living thing. He could see the flames leaping from one building to the next. He saw figures running in the street, falling, screaming and calling for help. He heard the sound of gunfire, and could see the black figures being dropped from the impossible height of the airships. And yet they landed, righting themselves mechanically to begin firing blindly into the burning town. Whatever they were, they weren't human. 

Through it all, the alarm wasn't even sounding. It was like the attack had happened so suddenly that no one had even had time to raise the alarm. 

Crowe voiced the thoughts that Nyx was in too much shock to say. “I...I don't think anyone is coming. Not this time. The militia isn't going to help.”

No one was coming to help. Amidst the panic that was racing through him, Nyx felt a cold dread take hold of him. They were on their own.

“So we go in quietly,” Crowe said. “We sneak in to find your families.”

“What about everyone else?” Nyx asked, the implications of this statement dawning on him.

“You find your families first. Worry about other people second,” Crowe said firmly.

Libertus swallowed, his face pale but determined. “Ok. So we split up.”

“Absolutely not,” Crowe said. “We stick together.”

“Our families live on opposite sides of town,” Libertus said. “It's faster to split up. Look, you two go together. Your side of town looks worse, so you'll need two, anyway.”

Nyx didn't want to admit it, but he knew Libertus was right. Taking the time to stick together could mean the difference between making it, and being just a moment too late.

“You be careful,” he said. “Don't try to fight them all. Just find your parents and get out. Meet us back here.”

“Same to you,” Libertus said. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths as if to steady himself. And then he ducked off into the smoke.

Crowe touched Nyx's sleeve. “Come on.”

They both drew their knives and moved forward. 

It was utter chaos. Everywhere, buildings were going up in flames. Rubble littered the streets, likely the result of the explosion they had heard. People ran in all directions, as though they weren't sure which way led to safety. The air was filled with smoke, and the sounds of screams and gunfire. Bodies lay in the street and Nyx tried not to look at them. He was afraid he would recognize them. 

Nyx's heart pounded in his throat as they tried to navigate the streets. They did their best to keep quiet and out of sight. But the streets looked strange and unfamiliar. Places he could ordinarily have navigated in his sleep had suddenly been transformed into a war zone, like something from an old movie or a TV broadcast. 

All at once, someone flung themselves out of an open doorway at Nyx, screaming bloody murder. Flames were licking all over his clothes, and his flesh was already badly burned. He grabbed onto Nyx, screaming, crying, and begging for help. 

“Help me! Please! Help me!”

Nyx tried to extricate himself from the man's desperate, clinging arms. “Ok, come on! Let go and I'll help you!”

But the man was beyond reason, sobbing and clinging to Nyx even as the flames threatened to spread to Nyx as well. A gunshot sounded, deafeningly loud, and the stranger's eyes flew open in shock and pain before his face froze and he slumped bonelessly against Nyx.

Nyx jumped back as the man's blood splattered across him. There, emerging from the same doorway, was the source of the gunshot. Nyx had heard about them, but had never expected to see one in real life. It was a machine in the shape of a human, its soulless red eyes staring dead ahead. A Magitek trooper, he had heard them called. A creation of the Empire. 

Nyx launched himself at it, and it reacted to his movement, raising its gun again. Nyx was faster and he drove his knife directly into its chest-plate. It barely made a dent, and Nyx realized his mistake in thinking a machine was susceptible to the same injuries as a human being. Thinking fast, he drove his blade instead into the gap between the MTs neck and torso armor. It fizzed and sparked, and its eyes went dark as it fell to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. Its expression never changed, and it took Nyx half a second to realize that it wasn't a face at all, just a blank, metal mask. Hiding whatever was inside.

Nyx turned back to check if the stranger who had grabbed him was still alive, but Crowe grabbed him and hauled him along.

“He's already dead. There's nothing you can do.”

They continued through the nightmare scene that had been Nyx's home. It all looked so different that he almost didn't notice when they turned onto his street. His heart, which had been thumping in the back of his throat ever since their wild sprint down the mountain, suddenly dropped to the pit of his stomach. His family's apartment building was a raging inferno of flames. 

He uttered a wordless cry and dove headlong inside, barely even hearing Crowe's warning shout behind him.

“Selena!” he yelled, gagging on the smoke that filled the air. The air was so hot that it felt like a physical force, pushing down on him and crushing him. It felt like his skin was going to melt off. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth and pushed from one room to the next. “Mom!” 

There was no answer to his shouts. Neither was there any sign of bodies. Still he searched, scouring every corner of the house that wasn't obscured by flames. His cries became more and more desperate the longer they went unanswered. 

His lungs were filled with the toxic smoke, and he coughed and choked on it. It filled his mouth and his nose and his ears and eyes until he could barely see straight. Then Crowe had him by the arm for what seemed like the tenth time that day and she was dragging him outside. She dumped him onto the ground where he lay for a moment, choking and coughing out the smoke that had entered his lungs.

“They're not there,” he croaked, as soon as he could speak. 

“That's good,” Crowe said firmly, pulling him to his feet. “That means they got out. They're here somewhere, Nyx, we just have to keep looking.”

She was interrupted by a pair of MTs breaking through the window of the neighboring building, firing at them. Nyx dropped to the ground and rolled out of the line of fire, while Crowe jumped aside. They flanked the mechanical soldiers, dismantling them without too much difficulty. The MTs were slow, and not extremely adept at following human movements, Nyx was quickly discovering. One on one, they were not difficult to dispatch. He had a grim suspicion that their true danger lay in sheer numbers and their ability to keep fighting long after a human being would have collapsed from pain and blood-loss. 

He only hoped Libertus was discovering the same thing.

They scoured street after street. Nyx refused to try to identify any of the bodies they came across. A small, niggling fear in the back of his mind tried to tell him that that was foolish. He could be tripping over his family's broken bodies and never know it. He brushed the fear aside and they kept looking.

The streets seemed to be getting harder and harder to see in. Dust from the debris and explosions was mixing with the thick smoke from the fires, and turning into an impenetrable gray fog that clogged the streets. MT's were almost invisible until they were practically staring each other in the face. 

Where were they? The desperation was beginning to close in when Nyx heard it. Out of all the other screams that echoed through the fog, this one was as clear and distinct as day. It was Selena's voice. 

“Over here!”

A flame rekindled itself inside his chest, one he didn't even realize had begun to falter.

“Selena!” he yelled, as loudly as he could. MT's be damned. Let them come.

“Nyx?!”

“Selena! Where are you?!”

He and Crowe ran towards the sound of her voice as she called to them. They tripped and stumbled over debris, dodging the flames that shot out the window of a nearby building. Nyx cut down a lone MT that stumbled out to block their path. 

The fog was so heavy that he almost ran past her. 

Her hand shot out and clamped over his wrist with an iron grip. He looked down, startled, to see her. She had dirt and ashes streaked across her face and clothes, but she was here and she was alive and unharmed and beautiful and he had never been more thankful for anything in his life. 

“Selena!” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her like he never had before.

“I knew you would come back,” Selena said.

“Nyx.” Mrs. Ulric appeared out of the fog as well and he wanted to sob with relief as he embraced her as well. The side of her shirt was stained with blood, and she was pale, but she was standing and talking. They would worry about the rest once they got out of here. They would be all right.

Selena and Mrs. Ulric were hunched, partially hidden against the side of the building in a debris-filled alley that helped mask their presence. They were with a handful of other people, some of whom Nyx knew vaguely, others whom he knew only by sight or not at all. 

Nyx took a minute to survey the small group. He saw a few small injuries, but nothing substantial. Everyone looked fit enough to run. Which was what they were going to have to do. Hopefully, Libertus was already at the river waiting for them. If not, once everyone was safe, Nyx would come back to look for him. 

“Ok,” Nyx said. “We're going to have to make a break for it. We're going to try to run for the river. If we can cross it and make it into the woods, we should be ok.”

“How exactly do you propose we do that?” someone asked harshly. Nyx knew him, although not by name. He had ordered a drink at the bar only last night. “There's a fucking army out there.”

Nyx glared at him. “I'll draw their fire. When they're focused on me, you all run.”

“That's bullshit!” Selena said fiercely. “We stick together. If we run, you run with us. If you stay, I'm staying with you.”

Nyx took her hands in his. “There isn't time to debate this. We have to do this now.”

“Exactly. There's no time. So come on. Run with us.”

“Nyx. She's right.” It was Crowe. “We stay together. We stay low and we stay quiet. In this fog? They might not even see us.”

It seemed like a terrible risk. But Selena held him in a steely grip and he couldn't bring himself to let go.

“All right,” he relented. “We go together.”

And then. 

“Help!” 

They turned to see a figure emerging from the fog. It was a woman, running, stumbling, picking her way over the rubble as fast as she could. In her arms, she was holding a child who was bawling his eyes out. “Help, please!”

They were drawing far too much noise. Nyx wasn't sure how the MTS worked, whether they tracked noise or heat signatures, or could somehow see. Either way, she was making herself and her child a perfect target. Nyx waved his arms wildly at the woman, trying to gesture to her to be quiet, silently trying to convey the message: _We see you. We're waiting for you._

But the stranger seemed too panicked to recognize the meaning of Nyx's gestures, and she kept shouting. “Wait! Wait! Wait for us!” 

The child kept shrieking.

Nyx didn't even see where the bullets came from. He heard them whizzing through the air before he saw the woman jerk violently backwards, the bullets punching holes in her like she was made of paper. She collapsed in a heap, her cries cut off. The child she had been carrying fell as well. For a moment, there was silence in the street.

Then the child started crying again. Where before it had been a wordless wail, Nyx could now make out words. “Mommy! Mommy, wake up!”

He heard a sharp intake of breath beside him. “No,” Selena whispered.

“We can't help him,” he said, hating the sound of his own voice. Going near the screaming child was suicide.

He couldn't bear to watch and yet he couldn't bear to look away. He didn't register that the grip on his arm had released until he felt the small figure brushing past him.

It all happened too fast. Selena was running, sprinting from their hiding place like she had wings on her feet. She leapt across the rubble, skimming the ground fearlessly. Nyx's heart seized as he realized what was happening. Cursed himself for not realizing it would happen. Of course she would run to the child's rescue. Because she was an Ulric. Stubbornness ran in her veins. He was a fool for thinking she would ever leave that child in the street to die. 

He sprang to his feet, running after her. But whereas she seemed to fly, his own boots seemed glued to the earth. He couldn't move fast enough and she was too fast and too far away. He heard someone screaming behind him, but he barely even registered it, so fully was he focused on Selena as she ran.

It was like watching it in slow motion. Her dark hair flew out like a cloud in the pale fog as she descended upon the child and gathered him into her arms. She didn't see the MT emerge from the fog at the edge of the street, red eyes glowing through the smoke like coals. 

“Selena, get down!” he yelled, but even his voice seemed too slow.

She turned back to him, the look of triumph on her face melting as she saw his own horrified gaze. She looked to follow his gaze, her own eyes lighting on the MT trooper at the same moment as the bullet entered her stomach.

“SELENA!” he roared. 

Blinded by panic, he dove at the MT, dismantling it in one quick thrust of his father's kukri. He heard more gunshots approaching and he raced to Selena's side. She lay on her back, her face twisted in pain and fear. A red stain was beginning to blossom across her lower abdomen. The child lay dead beside her.

Her breath hitched and she gasped as he scooped her into his arms and raced back across the street. “Nyx,” she choked, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Nyx...”

“Don't talk,” he hissed. “You're going to be fine. Just fine. You just keep breathing, you hear me?”

“Selena!” He had made it back to the shelter of the wall and his mother was at his side, frantically, pulling aside his arm to look at the blood on Selena's shirt.

“She's going to be fine,” Nyx repeated, trying to reassure himself as much as his mother. “But we need to get off the street.”

“Here,” Crowe said, and he turned to see that she was on her knees, digging through the wreckage. She had cleared away enough debris to reveal a hole in the base of the wall, a gap just big enough for them to squeeze through into the basement of the building. “Come on. Down here.”

Nyx didn't stop to question it. He tumbled down into the waiting sanctuary, holding Selena close to his chest. The others followed, and Crowe reached up behind them to shift a broken chunk of concrete so that it mostly concealed the entrance behind them.

It was dark in the basement, the only light filtering in through the small gashes and holes in the tops of the walls, up at the ground level. They could see MTs' boots go marching past, and hear the destruction continue around and above them.

Nyx knelt, still holding Selena. His mother was at his side, stroking Selena's forehead.

“Selena?” she said. “Selena, can you hear me?”

Selena nodded, her movements strained and jerky. 

Nyx lowered Selena to the ground as gently as he could, but she still cried out in pain at the movement. “Keep talking to her,” he instructed.

Mrs. Ulric kept up a stream of reassurances as Nyx carefully lifted Selena's shirt to reveal her midriff. 

What he saw made him want to gag. Her stomach was smeared with dark red blood that was oozing sluggishly out of the hole just to the side of her belly-button. He tore off his jacket and pressed it against the wound, hard. Selena jerked in response to the pressure and cried out.

Her hand came down on top of Nyx's, and she weakly tried to push him away.

“I know it hurts,” he said. “But I've got to do it.”

He placed her hand between his so that she could help him push. He looked up desperately to meet Crowe's eyes as she knelt helplessly beside him.

“You've got the magic,” he said. “Heal her.”

“Nyx,” she said, her voice sounding lost. “I can't. Even if I could, I don't know how. This is...I don't...”

“You can burn down buildings,” Nyx begged her. “You can fight daemons. Please. You have to fix her.”

“I can't!”

“Just try.”

“I CAN'T!”

“Please,” Nyx begged. “You have to try.”

Perhaps it was the desperation on his face that convinced her. She put her hands on theirs, over Selena's wound, and squeezed her eyes shut. She screwed her face to the side and bit her lip, clearly struggling to find something inside herself.

After a moment, she let out the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes. She shook her head at Nyx. “I can't....Nyx, I'm so sorry.”

“Nyx...” Selena breathed. “It's not...Crowe's...fault.”

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Things like this didn't just happen in real life. Not to him. Not to people he knew. It was a terrible, terrible dream. He bent forward, resting his head on Selena's chest and closed his eyes. Surely if he just took a few deep breaths, he would wake up to find that it was still that morning and he hadn't even gotten out of bed yet. Any second now, he would wake up.

Then he felt Selena's trembling hand on his head, her fingers wet with her own blood, as she tried to comfort him.

“It's all right,” she whispered.

Nyx sat up. This was real. It wasn't going to just go away. He fought through the fog of panic in his brain. He couldn't fall to pieces. He had to think what to do next. 

“We should make for the river now,” someone spoke, at the edge of Nyx's awareness. “Leave the wounded. They won't make it.”

Nyx rounded on the speaker in a state of pure fury. “We aren't going anywhere,” he hissed, shaking with sudden rage. “Until everyone can leave, we stay right here. Is that clear?”

“We don't have to listen to you,” the stranger shot back. His face was only dimly visible in the semi-darkness of the basement. Nyx couldn't have even been certain if this was a total stranger, or someone he knew regularly in another life. 

“It's almost night,” Nyx said coldly. “You want to face the daemons that are going to start waking up out there? On your own? Be my guest.”

The stranger said nothing and Nyx felt a grim satisfaction. 

“We are not leaving anyone behind.”

That was the end of the matter.

They stayed there, crouched in the half-light, listening to the sounds of the destruction that continued to reign outside. Selena's ragged breathing continued, every breath grating on Nyx's ears. He kept pressing onto the wound, doing his best to stem the seemingly endless tide of blood. It wasn't a sustainable solution, he knew that much. She needed real medical attention, and she needed it soon. But even if he had the skills, there was nothing in this basement to use. And going outside in an attempt to find something to use would only invite more danger. All they could do was wait, and hope. Hope that it would end and they could get Selena the help she needed. 

And then the world exploded around them. Bullets burst through the walls as the corner of their sanctuary collapsed. Screams echoed in the small space as the MTs burst in, forcing their way through the opening. Unhindered by the dark, they marched forwards, spraying the basement with bullets. In the dim light, Nyx could only make out the silhouettes of people as they collapsed.

Nyx flung himself forward over Selena, doing his best to bodily shield her from danger. 

“Nyx!” she gasped, and he could feel her weakly pushing against him. “Help mother!”

He realized that his mother was no longer beside him. Where had she gone? She had been right beside him a second ago. 

He grabbed Selena's hand tightly in his own for a moment. “I'll be right back!” he shouted. 

He drew his knife and began dismantling every MT he could reach. They kept spraying bullets into the air, into walls, into bodies, cutting a brutal swath through the survivors. Everywhere, the air was filled with screams and smoke and gunfire. Nyx cut down one MT and staggered towards the next, plunging his knife into every weak spot he could find. Every moment, he expected to feel the sickening pain of a bullet tearing its way through his flesh. But it never came. 

Instead, he heard the scream that tore through his heart like a bullet. It was his mother. 

Blinded by panic and rage, he kept going, fighting his way through the haze until the last MT's eyes dimmed and it slumped to the ground.

His legs gave out underneath him and he crawled forward in the semi-darkness until he reached the place his mother's scream had come from. 

“Mom,” he choked as he reached out to her. She was lying still, and though it was difficult to see, he could feel the slick blood coating her chest. “Mom!” In the darkness and fog, his hands found her face. It was frozen in place, her eyes still open in wordless terror.

Even knowing it, still, he couldn't believe it. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening for breath, for any trace of a heartbeat. There was nothing. No movement. No life. Only stillness. 

He sat for a moment, helplessly feeling the world fall apart around him. He grasped desperately for the only rational thought he could form: he couldn't fall apart. Not yet. Selena needed him.

Hands shaking, he reached up and gently slid his mother's eyes shut. And crawled back to Selena, where Crowe was crouched beside her, holding her hand.

“Nyx....” Selena whispered. “Mom. Is she ok?”

Nyx shook his head, not knowing how to answer. There would be plenty of time to tell her later. When she was well. When she was stronger. “She's... she'll be...um...”

He didn't know there were tears dripping down his face until Selena reached up and brushed one of them away.

“Nyx,” she said, her voice sounding steadier than his. “Tell me the truth.”

So he did.

The tears trembled in her eyes before overflowing and sliding down her cheeks. She didn't say a word. She barely even reacted when Nyx put his hands back over her wound, trying to hold the life inside her. 

Someone grabbed Nyx's shoulder, and he turned to see that it was the person who had spoken earlier, wanting to leave the wounded. 

“We're leaving,” the survivor said. “Come or stay. It's your choice.”

Stupid thing to say. Of course it wasn't his choice. There was no choice at all.

“Go on,” Nyx said. “Get as far away as you can. Run for the river. I'm staying with her.” He looked up at Crowe and noticed, guiltily, that she was bleeding herself, a small red stain splashed across her upper arm.

“You should go,” he told her grimly. “Get out of here. Go find Libertus.”

“The hell I should.” 

“I mean it.”

“Me too. Shut up.”

Nyx didn't even turn to watch as the other survivors slipped out through the openings in the wall that the MTs had left. Crowe found an old sheet in a corner of the basement and tore a long strip off it that they used to bind Selena's wound. Nyx wasn't sure what was worse, to leave the wound open, or to use a dirty bandage, but at least this felt like doing something. Her wound continued to bleed, immediately saturating the bandage.

He didn't know how long they sat there. All they could do was wait. Wait for help that would likely never come. Wait for an act of the gods to save them. Wait for prayers that would never be answered. Wait for a miracle.

Selena faded into sleep, or unconsciousness, he wasn't sure. He didn't try to wake her. At least if she was asleep, perhaps she was in less pain. As long as he could feel her pulse in her wrist, faintly beating like a moth's wings, he knew she was alive. And as long as she was alive, hope still burned inside him. They could survive this. They could make it through. They had to. 

_Don't die. Come on, Selena. You can do this. Just keep breathing. We're going to make it. Just stay alive._

The semi-darkness gradually grew to true darkness as twilight fell over what remained of the town. Outside, a few streetlamps that had somehow survived the destruction blinked to life. Others that had fallen to the ground fizzed, launching out a few sparks as they tried and failed to light. 

Nyx watched through the cracks and gaps in the wall as daemons pulled themselves up from the ground, freely roaming the ruined, darkened streets.

How could this have happened? How could things have gone so wrong?

The hours dragged by at an agonizingly slow pace. The moon rose and the stars came out, heedless of the world that had just ended. Nyx and Crowe sat in silence. Selena was pale, far too pale, and her sleep was disturbed by the grimaces of pain on her face.

It was hours before he gradually began to realize that he hadn't heard any MTs come past in a while. Outside, things had fallen almost quiet. Did that mean it was over? Or was this the calm before a second storm?

“Hey,” he whispered to Crowe. 

She looked up at him listlessly.

“Do you think...maybe they're gone?”

They listened. It was silent. Eerily silent. The only sign of life was the sound of their own breathing. It almost felt like they were the only three people on earth. For all Nyx knew, maybe they were.

“I think so,” Crowe said after a moment. “Stay here with her. I'll go take a look.”

“Be careful.”

He watched as she slowly stood, picking her way across the ruined basement to the narrow opening that led up to the street. She climbed out and stood, exposed in the night. Nyx could see her boots as she moved a few steps in one direction, and then the other.

“It looks clear enough,” she said, rejoining him. “What do you want to do?”

He looked down at Selena. She was still asleep in a dead faint. He had no idea what to do. They needed to get her someplace safe. But therein lay the problem. Where was safe? Was anywhere safe? They might already be in the safest place that was left. Moving her might do more harm than it would do good. They had no way to be sure. And either way, they were gambling with her life.

“You stay with her,” he said at last. “I'll go out. Scout a safe place. I'll come back for the two of you. Let you know what I've found.”

Crowe grimaced, and he could already tell what her objections were going to be. Her eventual answer spoke to the dire nature of the situation. “It's as good a plan as any. I'll take care of her until you get back.”

Nyx reached out his hand and gently laid it on Selena's cheek. It was cold, and streaked with ash and blood.

“Selena,” he said. “Selena, I need you to wake up for me.” As carefully as he could, he shook her awake. She stirred, her face twisting into a pained expression as she regained consciousness. She writhed miserably beside him and he ached to be able to diminish the unimaginable pain he knew she must be in. 

“Nyx,” she whispered, her eyes locking on his.

“Hey,” he said, trying to smile at her. “How are you feeling?”

Idiotic question. 

“...hurts,” she choked. He saw the blood staining her teeth and his heart sank.

“I know it does,” he said. “I'm going to find someplace safe to take you. Someplace where we can fix you up. Make you all better.”

“I think....Nyx, I think...” Her breath caught for a moment, and whatever she was going to say was lost. Instead, her expression relaxed. The pain left her face and her eyes grew distant.

“Nyx,” she said breathlessly. Her voice sounded oddly free from pain. Instead, it was filled with a kind of wonder. “Nyx, I'm doing it. I'm floating!”

Crowe looked at Nyx sharply in confusion. He was confused as well. Did she mean that she felt like she was floating? That couldn't be a good sign.

“No, you're not,” he told her. “You're right here with me. I've got you. You're gonna be just fine.”

She let out tiny laugh, her body spasming in a violent jerk. “Look at me, Nyx! I'm doing it!”

And then he remembered. The spring day eight years ago when he had taught her to float in the river. Selena's body might be resting next to Nyx in the dirty basement, but her mind had returned to that moment, when she was nine years old and nothing was so bad that her big brother couldn't fix it. When her big brother was always at her side, and could always save her from any danger that threatened her. 

Nyx felt the tears rising in his throat, choking his words. “That's right,” he said, trying to reassure her, wherever her mind had gone. “You're doing great.”

She gave a sudden jolt beneath his hand. “Nyx! Don't let go! I'm... going to sink!”

He reached down and grabbed her hand, holding it so tightly in his own that he thought he might crush it.

“I'm right here. I've got you. I'm not going to let go.”

“Do you...promise?” The last word came out in a strangled cough. A small bead of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth and trickled down her cheek.

“I promise,” he said. He was barely even aware of the tears streaming down his face. He forgot Crowe. He forgot the ruins around them. He forgot everything except Selena as she struggled and fought for each breath. “Remember? I told you. I'll always keep you safe.”

She smiled at him, and he wasn't sure if she was seeing him at this moment, or if she was smiling at the memory of her 12-year-old big brother. He felt her hand move weakly in his, and he twined her fingers through his. “I promise,” he repeated.

Her breath hitched in her chest, stuttering. Her chest rose and then fell, rose and then fell, rose....and fell. It didn't rise again. The smile on her face faded as her fingers lost their grip on his. And then she was gone.


	8. The Things You Can't Forget: Part 2

They stayed there, crouched in the darkness for hours as the night wore on. There was nothing else to be done. There didn't seem to be much urgency to leaving anymore. Nyx flatly refused to leave Selena and his mother, and Crowe didn't ask him to. Even if they could make it to the river, what was the point anymore? They might be in more danger there than they were here. The only purpose they might have was finding Libertus. Crowe suggested this half-heartedly. But the fact was that Libertus had either escaped, and was already safe, he was holed up someplace like them, or he was one of the countless bodies that littered the ruined streets. 

So they waited, watching the moonlight drift in through the cracks and bullet holes in the top of the basement walls. Waiting for any signs of life to return to the street. 

The night was beginning to fade from black to gray when Crowe reached out and touched Nyx's arm. “Listen.”

He obeyed mechanically. Faintly, he could hear what sounded like tires crunching over asphalt. Voices in the distance. The sound of rubble being shifted.

“It can't be the empire,” she said. “It must be some kind of help.”

“Maybe,” Nyx agreed. The idea seemed distant and inapplicable. What did they need help for? Wasn't the damage already done?

“Hello!” A voice was calling, not too far off. “Helloooooo! Is anyone here?”

“It is!” Crowe said. “They're here to help.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“We should climb out. Meet them.”

Nyx remembered, then, in the same way someone remembers something that happened years ago, that Crowe was injured as well. “Good idea,” he said. “I think I'm....gonna stay here a little while longer. With them.”

Crowe stood, joints cracking audibly after the hours spent in a cramped position. She opened her mouth like she going to say something, but shut it again. Instead, she just squeezed Nyx's shoulder tightly before shifting the rubble out of the way and emerging onto the street. 

“Hey!” He heard her shout. Through the cracks in the walls, he could see her boots on the street. He saw her rise up onto her toes and imagined her waving her arms wildly, trying to catch someone's attention. “We're over here! Hey! This way!”

The voices came nearer, accompanied by the crunching sounds of rubble being shifted as their unseen rescuers no doubt did their best to navigate the destruction. He didn't want to imagine what it looked like out there. 

“...can't be many. Bet we don't find more than a hundred.”

“That's optimistic, don't you think? Look at this mess. Bet we don't find more than fifty.”

It registered dimly that they were discussing the number of possible survivors. Nyx supposed that he should be offended, and maybe even outraged by the flippant way in which they were discussing so many people's deaths, but he couldn't summon the energy to feel offense or outrage, or really anything.

“I'm over here!” Crowe called again.

“We see you! Stay there, we're coming to you!”

The footsteps drew nearer.

“Are you hurt?”

“I'm fine....it's not bad.”

“That needs to be checked out.”

“Yeah, fine. In a minute.”

“Is there anyone else with you? Are you alone?”

“No, my friend. He's down in the basement, here.”

“Is he hurt? Is he trapped?”

“No, he's all right.”

“We'll get your friend. Step this way, please, miss. We'll get that arm looked at.”

Nyx stayed where he was, watching Crowe's feet disappear beyond his line of sight, accompanied by another pair of boots. 

He threw up a hand to shield his eyes as someone shone a flashlight into the darkness of the basement. “Hello? Anyone down here?”

Someone shifted the slab of concrete that was still partially blocking the entrance, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt. Nyx coughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Over here.”

Nyx was blinded by the glaring flashlight, and couldn't make out much about the person now climbing down into the basement. All he could see was a tall silhouette and close-cropped hair. The silhouette crouched beside Nyx and grasped him by the shoulder.

“Are you all right? Are you injured?”

Nyx shook his head. 

“Come on, then, let's get you out of here?”

Nyx shook his head again.

“Why not? Are you sure you're not hurt?”

Nyx's throat was dry and his voice sounded rougher than usual. “I don't want to leave them.”

“Who....is there someone else down here?”

Nyx said nothing, and in the silence, he could hear understanding dawn on the stranger. 

“Listen, son, we'll take care of them. Don't worry. Meantime, let's get you out of here.”

He held out a hand to Nyx. Nyx willfully ignored it, pulling himself to his feet. His knees groaned in protest after hours of sitting uncomfortably. He stumbled forward towards the light, emerging at last into the open air.

The street looked worse than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that yesterday's fog had cleared, so that now he was better able to see the true amount of devastation. Only a handful of buildings remained totally unscathed. Most were burned husks, or had great chunks missing from the sides. Still others were nothing more than heaps of smoldering ruins. The ground was littered with concrete and metal and broken glass.

And bodies. Everywhere. Some lay exposed in the night, while others were partially hidden. A burned arm poking out from beneath a crumbled wall. A bloody face just visible beneath a fallen street lamp. Nyx felt the bile rising in his throat and he fought to control his sudden nausea. 

He stood watching as the rescuers pulled bodies from the basement, one by one. He watched as they carried Selena and his mother out, laying them side by side the other bodies in the street. There was so much more blood than he had realized in the darkness of last night. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the stain that nearly covered Selena's entire shirt. 

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder and he gave a start. Nyx failed to register anything distinct about the stranger beyond his Lucian black uniform. 

“Come on. Let's get you checked out.”

“I'm fine.”

“Sure you are. Let's check anyway, yeah?”

Nyx didn't care enough to protest, so he let himself be led away. Before he was out of earshot, he could just make out the voice of the person who had gotten him out of the basement. “ _Fuck_. This is gonna be a long day.”

Nyx was led to a circle of black trucks that were parked at the end of the street. They probably hadn't been able to get any closer, due to the wreckage blocking the road. The back doors of the trucks were open, and crates of medical supplies were piled around them on the ground. 

Crowe sat in the back of one of the trucks, her gaze resting on something a thousand miles away while a medic stitched the bleeding gash in her bicep. Her eyes came back into focus when Nyx approached. 

“Nyx!”

“How's your arm?”

“This?” She looked down at it like she had almost forgotten it. She had her sleeve rolled up high enough that he could just make out the start of her scar on her shoulder. “Fine. Don't worry about it.”

There were more survivors there, of course. A child was seated in the back of the truck next to Crowe, her eyes unfocused and dim from pain meds as another medic set her broken arm. A man lay sobbing on a stretcher, half his face covered in bandages and gauze. There were more of course, but Nyx could hardly bear to look at them.

Someone gently pushed him to have a seat in the back of one of the trucks. Someone else shone a light in one eye, then another, and asked him to identify how many fingers were being held up. He was asked if he knew his name, and what year it was. 

He had spoken the truth. He was fine, and the medics soon realized it. He stood and his place in the back of the truck was immediately filled by another survivor, carried out of the ruins by one of the Lucian rescuers. The survivor was screaming in pain, and Nyx's stomach turned over as he saw that her left leg simply ended a little below the knee in a bloody mess. He hurried out of the way to let the medics work.

The survivors continued to emerge from the ruins. Some came on their own, stumbling towards the circle of lights set up around the trucks. Some were carried in the arms of the rescuers; others stumbled along using them as support. By the time the sun finally slipped free of the horizon, there were maybe a hundred of them, total. Nyx idly thought that the first rescuer he had heard had won the bet.

Crowe came to stand beside him. She had a fresh white bandage around her arm. They watched in silence as the survivors continued to emerge, one by one. Nyx noticed a camera flash, and then another. With irritation, he realized that someone was actually walking around filming the destruction. He wondered how long it would be before the Insomnian news crews arrived. He desperately wished to rewind time. To crawl back into the basement where they had found him and never leave. Maybe he could curl up next to Selena and pretend to be dead, too. Hell, if he could rewind time, maybe he'd throw himself in front of a bullet just to finish the job already. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Crowe, who let out a relieved shout. “Libertus!”

Sure enough. There was Libertus, picking his way around the rubble. He was covered in dust and ash, but he looked all right. His parents were with him.

Crowe ran forward and threw her arms around him, letting out a great sob of relief. He hugged her back and they stood there in the middle of the ruined street for a moment, holding each other and crying. 

Nyx couldn't seem to summon the energy to join them. He pretended he couldn't see Crowe whispering frantically in Libertus's ear. He pretended he didn't know what she was telling him. He pretended he didn't see the look of shock settle over Libertus's face. 

Libertus came over to Nyx then, and Nyx had a sudden wild urge to clap his hands over his ears so he couldn't hear what Libertus was sure to say.

“Hey, man,” Libertus said. And he pulled Nyx into his arms. Nyx stood there woodenly, having forgotten how to hug someone back. “I....I don't know what to say.”

“Glad you're all right,” Nyx said, when Libertus pulled away. “We were worried.”

“Fine, I'm fine,” Libertus said. “Nyx....I'm so sorry.”

Nyx patted him on the back distantly. “I'm....I'm going to go....get some air.” As if he wasn't already standing outside.

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

Nyx turned and wandered back off into the wreckage, leaving Libertus and Crowe standing together in the light. He wasn't sure if someone would stop him, and tell him it wasn't safe. But no one did, so he continued down the street, tripping blindly over debris.

He found his way back to his apartment. The building, which had been a flaming inferno when he last saw it, was transformed into a blackened shell. The flames had long since burned out, and now it sat, utterly silent. 

Everything was gone. Burned. Dead. Nyx knew that this had far-reaching implications, but he was too lost in the shock of the moment to even comprehend it. Tomorrow didn't exist, not yet anyway. So he wandered aimlessly through the wreckage of their apartment, shifting burned furniture and collapsed walls, looking for anything that might have survived. 

There was nothing.

Until he reached his bedroom. The bed frame had collapsed, and the bedclothes hung in scorched rags. But as he moved these aside, his heart gave a small leap inside him. There was something. He dug it out to see that it was a shoebox, blackened and burned, but mostly intact. Barely daring to hope, he lifted the lid. 

There wasn't much inside. His certificate signed by King Regis. A few photographs. And the letter. The one Selena had written him on his birthday. 

Most of the photographs were slightly curled from the heat, but they were intact, and he had never been more grateful for anything in his life. He lowered himself to the ground, rifling through them gently. In the bottom of the box, stuck to the back of another photo so that he almost missed it, was a photo of his mother and Selena. He had taken this one himself, last New Years. They were both beaming at the camera, smiling up at him from that frozen moment in time. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

This was it. They were gone. He wouldn't ever see them smile at him again. This picture was all he had left of their smiles, and it wasn't nearly enough. 

Something inside him crumbled, and one tear slid off his nose and onto the picture. He wiped it off, angrily, afraid it would stain the image. A second tear followed, and then another. Alone in the ruined apartment, he set the picture aside, leaned back against the blackened wall, and cried.

It was supposed to be him. It was always supposed to be him. How many times had he heard his mother tell him to be careful? How many times had she and Selena told him that he was not allowed to die on them? Because he was the idiot. He was the one who threw himself headlong into danger. He was the one who volunteered to fight the daemons. He was the one that they worried about it.

And yet here he was, without a scratch on him, while they were gone forever. It wasn't fair, he thought desperately. It was horrible and twisted and deeply, profoundly unfair. He knew that was a stupid, childish argument, but being childish didn't make it any less true. 

He closed his eyes and prayed, to whoever might be listening. _Bring them back. You can have me. Take me instead. Just bring them back._

No one answered. The apartment remained silent and empty. 

\----

The old cemetery had been destroyed in the attack, and the markers were broken and scattered. Even if it hadn't been, the newly dead were too numerous for the small cemetery. A new cemetery was started, beside the river. This was where they buried Selena and Mrs. Ulric. Nyx and his friends piled their graves high with purple mountain asters and set stones in place as markers. 

Nyx tried to imagine them being at peace, because that was the phrase people used when someone had died. But all he could remember was his mother's cry for help, and Selena, dying a slow, agonizing death while he sat, helpless, beside her. And he found that peace was a difficult thing to imagine.

He remembered something his father had said to his mother, on his deathbed. What was it, exactly? “I'll wait for you,” he had said. “Whatever comes next.” He wondered if his family was indeed reunited, somewhere. He wondered if they were waiting for him. It didn't seem likely. After all, if you didn't even have control over your life while you were alive, it seemed ridiculous to assume that you would have any control over whatever came next. Either way, together or not, they were gone. And he was the one that was left alone.

 

The bar had survived, despite the odds. The end wall had been destroyed, but the rest of it was almost entirely untouched. So that was where Nyx retreated after the pitiful funeral that they had thrown together. He sat on the floor behind the bar, reaching for the first bottle he saw. He didn't care what it was. He drank it slowly, the sharp, acrid taste burning through his veins until his senses dulled and the world grew fuzzy. Even after he reached the bottom, the ache inside him refused to diminish. So he reached for the next bottle. 

He closed his eyes and saw Selena staring at him reproachfully. He remembered how she used to scold him about giving away free drinks. Surely, she would disapprove of him drinking his way through their remaining wares. Well, she could disapprove all she wanted. She was gone and he couldn't think of a better way to cope with the gaping hole she had left behind.

He wondered how many bottles it would take to poison himself. How many bottles it would take before he could join his family beside the river, buried in flowers. It was no more than he deserved. It was his fault. He should have stayed home with her. He should have made them run to the river while he distracted the MTs. He should have stopped her from running out into the street. He should have gotten everyone out the basement before the MTs had broken in. There were so many stupid, _stupid_ things he could have so easily done. So many ways he had failed them. 

He lost track of time. He wasn't sure how long he had been there when Libertus found him. 

Libertus sat down beside him, kicking empty bottles out of his way to clear a place to sit. Nyx couldn't even look at him. 

“How much have you had?” Libertus asked.

“Not enough,” Nyx said hoarsely. 

“You sure about that?”

Nyx contemplated the bottle in his hand. The words on the label swam before his eyes so that he couldn't even read what they said. He took another drink. “I'm still here, aren't I?”

Libertus held out his hand. “Can I?”

Nyx passed the bottle to him. Libertus took a long drink and handed it back. 

“We're still here,” Libertus agreed. 

Maybe it was how much he'd had to drink. But it was like popping a cork out of a bottle. Every emotion that had been stuck in Nyx's throat came rushing out at once and he cried into Libertus's shoulder for what seemed like hours.

“It's my fault,” he repeated miserably. “It's my fault.”

“It is not,” Libertus said. 

“I didn't save them.”

“You can't save everyone, Nyx.”

Nyx closed his eyes, but all he could see was the blood smeared covering his mother's chest and the pain on Selena's face as she struggled to breathe. He cried until finally, the combination of alcohol and exhaustion tugged him into unconsciousness oblivion.

\----

Their town hadn't been the only one to be destroyed. All across Galahd, settlement after settlement had been almost wiped off the map by the Empire.

And yet the Empire was making no move to claim Galahd. Whatever the purpose of the attack, it hadn't been to plant their flag and subdue its citizens, forcing them under the dominion of the Empire. Rather, the Empire had swept through Galahd like a deadly plague and then vanished just as swiftly as they had come. As though the attack had had no greater purpose than to serve as a middle finger to Lucis and the king. A way to say, “Look what we can do to your citizens. Look how powerless you are to stop us.”

Relief from Insomnia continued to pour into Galahd. Workers labored tirelessly to clear the destruction and rubble. Of course, it was a necessary step in rebuilding, but Nyx found it almost more disheartening after the wreckage was cleared. Because once it was gone, all that was left was the few buildings that remained standing. There was nothing to hide behind, and nothing left to do but face reality.

Apparently, Galahd had issued an official statement. Something to the effect that Galahd was not beaten. That they would continue to resist the Empire. That they would rebuild and move forward. Proud, empty words that did nothing to change the reality that suddenly surrounded Nyx.

He saw a news report from Insomnia. King Regis had delivered an address, praising the strength of Galahdian survivors. He promised that Insomnia would continue to support them. 

Libertus scoffed at this. “Easy for him to say. He goes to sleep every night surrounded by a magic wall. Surrounded by guards and soldiers. What the hell does he know about what's going on here? What does he know about what we're living through?”

“He's doing the best he can,” Crowe said tiredly. “We all are.”

A handful of survivors were gathered in the bar that night. No one was drinking, but it was one of the few buildings intact enough to serve as a gathering place of sorts. They had secured a tarp over the end of the building where the wall had been blown out, to keep out the worst of the drafts. The survivors trickled in one by one until they formed a quiet, melancholy sort of party, all sitting around without saying much.

Libertus had found a TV someplace with only one small crack in the corner of the screen, and someone had performed the minor miracle of getting it to receive an Insomnian news channel. It crackled and occasionally fizzled out into static, but it would begin working again if someone smacked it.

The reporter was a smartly dressed woman with immaculate hair and a ferociously bright shade of lipstick. “Niflheim has yet to release any kind of statement or comment on the atrocities that took place in Galahd. They haven't made any official acknowledgment of their involvement, and yet are making no move to deny it, either. In light of the destruction that occurred, King Regis has announced that the gates of Insomnia are to be thrown open to any and all Galahdian refugees.”

“Do you believe the arrogance of these people?” Libertus snorted. “They just assume we're all ready to leave Galahd and move in with them. As if we're going to be scared out of our homes that easily.”

“What homes?” someone else asked. “There are no homes left here.”

“The buildings might be gone,” someone else said. “We might have lost family and friends. But Galahd is still here. And as long as it is, I'm not going anywhere.”

Nyx looked blearily around the room to see heads nodding and people murmuring their agreement.

“As long as we stay, Galahd hasn't been defeated. We can rebuild. Show the Empire that it takes more than that to break us.”

“Rebuild? There's nothing to rebuild. Open your eyes. It's all gone.”

“So you would just leave? Without a second thought? This is our home! Our heritage! Imagine our children, growing up far from Galahd. Never knowing this place? Forgetting?”

Forgetting, Nyx reflected. It didn't sound so bad. 

“If we leave now, Galahd will be lost,” Libertus said firmly.

“Look around you. It already is lost.”

The debate continued, but Nyx lost interest. He turned his attention instead towards the TV. The camera was now showing footage of the aftermath of the attack. The ashes of buildings. The ruined streets. 

Nyx imagined this broadcast playing in Insomnian households. He imagined families watching this and shaking their heads, feeling a moment of sympathy for “those poor people in Galahd”, and then carrying on with their day. How was it that one person's world could be destroyed in the span of a few hours, while everywhere else the world kept turning without even pausing to notice?

Go to Insomnia as a refugee. Stay here in the ruins of his old life. What did it matter, in the end? It wouldn't change what had happened.

\----

It was the next morning when Nyx woke to a knock on the door. He had been staying at the bar, sleeping in the back. There was hardly anywhere else to stay. He stumbled to his feet and wearily made his way to the door.

He opened it to see, to his surprise, the captain of the militia. 

“Sir?” It came out sounding like a question. 

“Nyx. Do you mind if I come in?”

Nyx stepped aside and gave a “be-my-guest" gesture 

“I take it you've heard the news.”

“I don't know,” Nyx said. “Which news?”

“The King is recruiting.”

“Recruiting?” That was news. “Recruiting for what?”

“Apparently that's classified. All I heard is that they're asking for volunteers. For fighters. Highly selective, is the term I've heard. They don't take many.”

Nyx shrugged. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I assumed you'd heard. I was coming to ask if you were going to go.”

Nyx sat heavily on one of the stools and rubbed his forehead. “I....like I said. I hadn't heard. I don't know. It's not a lot to go on.”

“There's a man you could talk to. He just came up from the city last night, and has been asking around. He'd be able to tell you anything you want to know.”

“Where would I find him?”

“I imagine he'll find you.”

“He'll...what?”

The Captain smiled faintly. “I gave him your name. He mentioned he'd stop by.”

“You told him I was going to join this...whatever-it-is?”

“I told him you were an individual of considerable skill and talent, who might be interested. Nothing more.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Then don't say anything. Just listen to what he has to say. And think it over.”

The Captain saw himself out, leaving Nyx to mull over what he had said and worry about the impending visit of the Lucian stranger who “might stop by”.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the second knock eventually sounded on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened. In stepped a stranger with a military posture, a stern countenance, and a katana at his side. His gaze swept over Nyx, who felt suddenly reduced to the size of an ant.

“Nyx Ulric?”

“That's me.”

“My name is Cor Leonis. On behalf of the King, and all of Lucis, I want to offer my condolences for everything that has happened here.”

“...thanks.” Nyx was slightly bewildered. 

“I was given your name by the captain of the town militia. I was told you might have an interest in joining a certain division of the Lucian military.”

Nyx blinked. “Which division is that? Sir?”

“I'm afraid it's...complicated.”

Nyx stared at him.

“I apologize for the secrecy. I know it must seem strange. What you need to know is that you'd be serving your King and your country. Fighting the empire as a member of an elite, specialized, and highly....selective unit.”

“Highly selective. What does that mean?”

The stranger considered Nyx carefully for a moment before answering. “Strictly speaking, I'm not authorized to be speaking in specifics. But if I were, then I would ask you this: how much do you know about the Kingsglaive?”

Nyx almost choked on air. The Kingsglaive? Who hadn't heard of the Kingsglaive? Everyone had heard the stories. An elite fighting force that combined the king's magic with terrifying prowess in battle. Every story was wilder and more fantastic than the next, so much so that it was hard to separate the truth from the exaggeration and the pure fabrication.

So he said, truthfully, “Not much. They use the King's magic, don't they?”

“They do.”

“And you want....me?”

“We want volunteers. We want people who are eager to put their skills to good use defending their country. The problem is, not everyone can use the King's magic. For reasons we don't understand, only a few people can do that. The talent for it tends to run stronger in those that come from the outer reaches of Lucis. That makes you a probable candidate.”

“But you don't know for sure?”

“No one knows for sure until they get to Insomnia. Ultimately, it's not even my decision. It would be up to the Captain of the glaive. He couldn't make the trip, however, so I'm here to represent him.”

It was too much to take in all at once. “Why wouldn't you tell me it was the Kingsglaive you were talking about at first?”

“Like I said. We want recruits who want to serve their king. Not fools who just want a cheap thrill and a taste of magic. So I ask you again, Nyx Ulric. Do you want to serve your king?”

“I do.”

“But?”

“I....it's a lot to take in,” Nyx said, floundering. “Do I get some time to think about it?”

“I'll be returning to the city tomorrow morning," Cor said. You have until then to think it over."

\----

On the surface, it didn't seem like nearly enough time to make such a monumental decision. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it wasn't a hard decision at all. In truth, he realized that he had already made his decision the moment he heard the words, “The King is recruiting.”

All that remained was to tell Libertus and Crowe. There wasn't really anyone else left to tell. They met that night at the bar and he told them. The words sounded ridiculous, coming from him. 

“I'm...leaving for the Crown City. I'm going to join the Kingsglaive.” 

Libertus stared at him blankly. “You're...what?”

Nyx repeated himself, a little slower. 

“Since when? And how?”

Nyx told them the whole story, watching their eyes grow wider and wider with shock. 

“So you don't even know if they'll take you until you get to Insomnia?” Crowe asked. 

“I guess.”

“So, what then?” Libertus asked, the disbelief in his voice plain. “Say you get there, and they turn up their noses at you. Would you come back? Or would you stay there?”

Nyx opened his hands in a shrug. “I don't know.”

“But this is home. How could you just leave?” Nyx heard the note of betrayal in Libertus's voice.

Nyx searched for a way to explain. He had known this was going to be a hard sell with Libertus. But he didn't know how to explain the way this opportunity felt; like he was drowning and this was his lifeline. “If I go....if they decide to take me...I could do some good. I could be helping people. Maybe I could stop this from happening to other people.” 

Libertus crossed his arms. “You could do some good if you stayed here, too. They need us here. We need to rebuild. Not run away.”

“It's not running away,” he said. The phrase pricked at him uncomfortably, but he pushed that feeling down. 

“You're going to forget. You're going to forget about Galahd. You're going to turn into some kind of...puppet, for a King who can't even be bothered to protect his own people.”

Nyx felt a surge of anger. “You think I could forget this – any of this? You think I could ever forget? I couldn't...even if I wanted to. And I'm no one's puppet.”

Crowe spoke up. “Do they just want you? Or are they taking more volunteers?”

“It sounded like they want as many volunteers as they can get. It sounds like it's just a matter of who they'll end up taking.”

“Good,” Crowe said, nodding. “Then I'm coming, too.”

“What?” Libertus looked at her, slack-jawed with astonishment. “Nyx, I get. He always needs to play the hero. But you? Why in the world do you want to fight for the King?”

Crowe didn't answer for a moment. “It's like Nyx said,” she answered at last. “It's about helping people. The Empire is just going to keep doing this. Destroying towns, cities, and whole countries unless they're stopped. I want to stop them.”

“But-”

“Besides,” she said, smiling a little ruefully. “They specifically recruit people who'll be able to use the King's magic. That's a rare quality. I don't think I'm crazy to assume that I could be pretty good at it. And maybe that's the point. I've spent years wishing I didn't have this magic. Wishing I could get rid of it. Scared I'm going to hurt someone. What if this is the reason I have it? This might be my only chance to use it to help people, instead of hurt them.”

She nodded across the table at Nyx. He nodded gratefully back.

Libertus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You're....both....idiots. You know that?”

Nyx almost cracked a smile at that. Almost. 

“Still. If you're bound and determined to do this...completely idiotic thing, I can't let you do it alone.”

“Stop,” Nyx said. “Just stop. We know how you feel about this. I'm not gonna ask you to do that. You want to stay here. And you should. Help put this place back together.”

“You don't tell me what to do,” Libertus snapped. “I make my own decisions.”

He huffed and stood, pacing the room. Nyx and Crowe watched him in silence, sensing that he had more to say, and afraid to interrupt him before he was finished.

“I just want to get one thing straight,” Libertus said finally, still pacing. “I'm not joining this fight for the King. I'm not even fighting for Lucis. I'm fighting for Galahd. I'm fighting for everyone who died here. And I'm fighting so that it doesn't happen again – ever. You got that?”

“It amounts to the same thing,” Nyx said.

“Maybe, but I just want to make sure you're clear on that. All right?”

Nyx understood. “All right.”

“And we'll come back. When it's all done and over with. We're coming back here. Because this is where we belong. Not Insomnia. Not Lucis. Here. Galahd. This is home.”

Nyx nodded, because he knew it was what Libertus wanted to see. “Right.”

In truth, it seemed like a child's dream. That they could leave to fight wars and return home to pick up their lives where they had left them. Or rather, to rebuild them. And Nyx didn't believe in it for a moment. Maybe he would eventually return. Maybe he would be killed fighting the King's war. But either way, there was no going back. His life here was over. This – the fight against Niflheim - seemed like it was the only thing left.

 

It was easy to get ready to leave in the space of one night. None of them really had anything to pack. There were few people to say goodbye too. 

It was raining the next morning as Nyx, Libertus and Crowe found themselves loaded into the back of one of the black trucks as they prepared to depart for the Crown City. The relief workers were finally leaving, probably glad to return to their families and their safe lives. No doubt eager to leave the ruins of Galahd behind. 

Nyx and his friends weren't the only ones leaving. Others had decided to abandon the wreckage and start afresh in Insomnia. Still more were staying behind, to begin rebuilding. Nyx felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that in his heart, Libertus wanted to stay with them. He had asked Libertus so many times if he was sure that Libertus had gotten annoyed with him and told him to shove it up his ass.

The truck doors slammed, closing them inside. The engine rumbled to life beneath them and the tires crunched over gravel as the line of black trucks began to move. Nyx watched out the back window as the remaining buildings of the town grew smaller and smaller behind them. 

“We won't forget,” Libertus said, beside him. “We're coming back.”

He was right about one thing, anyway. Nyx couldn't forget. The things that had happened here were seared into Nyx like a tattoo. But as precious as they were, the memories carried the weight of a curse and it was more than he could bear. It was crushing. Maybe it would be easier to live in a city where every building, every tree, and every rock didn't carry the weight of so much past. 

The tires hissed on the wet roads as the trucks drove forward into the gray mist. What lay ahead was uncertain, but for Nyx, it carried the promise of purpose. Not that it made leaving any easier. He thought about the small graves by the side of the river. He wondered if the flowers had wilted yet, and he thought about the graves in the years to come. He imagined the grass growing up around them, and wildflowers blooming over the bones of his baby sister. He imagined the markers sinking deeper and deeper into the earth every spring when the earth was wet. 

The truck rounded a sharp bend, jarring him sideways into Libertus. His heart gave a squeeze as he leaned forward to get one last look. Crowe and Libertus leaned forward with him. Together, they watched out the window as Galahd disappeared behind them - a rain-soaked ruin drowned beneath the weight of its own past.


	9. The Outcasts

_Nyx staggered forward, one arm thrown up to shield his face from the scorching heat as the flames consumed the house around him He could see the door. It wasn't far. But he was so tired. Every step was pure agony. Still, he staggered on, panting, beads of sweat streaming down his face._

_“Nyx!”_

_He stumbled. Selena? What was she doing in here? Where was she? The voice sounded like it had come from one of the burning rooms. His heart beat faster as he turned, trying to make his way there._

_“Selena?”_

_“Nyx! Help me! I'm trapped!”_

_He made his way to the doorway of her bedroom. There she was. She was cornered by the flames that leapt towards her, devouring everything in their path. There was nowhere to run. She was surrounded._

_He lunged forward only to find himself falling, crashing to the ground. A chain had appeared out of nowhere, wrapping itself around Nyx's ankle. He tugged at it, but it refused to give. He was stuck. He couldn't reach her._

_“Selena! You have to move!”_

_“I can't! Nyx, help me!”_

_The flames plunged forward, and Selena began screaming._

 

Nyx jolted awake with a huge gasp. He sat bolt upright, shaking and sweating, looking wildly around him. “Selena....” 

Her name died on his lips as he realized where he was. He was in bed, in his apartment in Insomnia. Selena had been dead for over a month.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Breathing was a good place to start. It was a simple thing to focus on. In, and then out. Easy.

He looked around at his surroundings, trying to ground himself in reality. He still wasn't used to the apartment. It was tiny and had only one room, unless you counted the bathroom. It was standard military-issue housing for someone with no dependents or relatives, and while a lot of people might have complained about the size, Nyx found that he didn't mind. As it was, he had so few belongings that it didn't look like anyone lived here yet. Everything was spartan and gray, utterly devoid of any kind of decoration or ornamentation. The shoebox he had rescued from Galahd still sat on the desk. He hadn't opened it since arriving. 

It was the new normal, he supposed.

_Normal._ The word almost made him want to snort with laughter. There was nothing even remotely normal about his current situation. He was a war refugee in the Crown City of Lucis. And as he sat there in his bed, he was acutely aware of the strange energy that was buzzing through him, like an adrenaline rush that refused to dissipate. He still wasn't used to it.

He held out his closed fist in front of him and let out a slow breath. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on the energy, focusing on channeling it into his hand. He felt the magic flood his body and he opened his hand. A small, flickering flame appeared in his palm. It gave off a thin, wisp of smoke that drifted towards the ceiling, but it didn't burn him. He didn't even feel the heat.

He remembered the first time he had managed it. He had panicked and dropped the handful of flames, which then resulted in him having to stamp out the resulting fire before it could burn anything important. His immediate reaction had been to feel a rush of sympathy for Crowe. 

Sitting there, he watched the flame as it danced in the palm of his hand. His apartment shook slightly as the subway whizzed by beneath him. The cabinets rattled and the flame in his hand flickered. He watched it a moment longer, and then he blew it out. 

The sun wasn't even up yet, but the city was already bursting with life as he emerged out into the morning. His apartment was down in the thick of the city, several levels below street level. The streets down here weren't built for cars, so people just walked everywhere, or took the subway. Even this early in the morning, the streets were clogged with pedestrians, talking and laughing and greeting one another. Some Nyx could understand. Some spoke in languages he couldn't even name, much less understand. 

It wasn't exactly the ritzy part of town, but Nyx already liked it better than the upper level. Up there, it was all skyscrapers, museums, and marble. Everyone ran around in suits and drove flashy cars and, unless he was wearing his black Kingsglaive uniform, they looked at Nyx like he had crawled out of a gutter somewhere and they rather wished he'd hurry up and crawl back into it. Down here, people were slightly more forgiving. His hair, his tattoos, and his accent didn't stand out so much. He was far from the most exotic person down here. It was easier to lose himself in the shuffle. 

Ironically enough, he had discovered early on that wearing the uniform down here meant that people tended to look at him with something like apprehension. Crowds tended to part around him, and people gave him a wider berth. So he usually carried the jacket, and didn't put it on until he climbed the rusty flights of stairs to emerge onto the upper level. 

It took him about an hour to reach the glaive headquarters on foot. It would be faster to ride the subway, but he didn't mind the walk. The subway was dirty and cramped and usually smelled like someone had thrown up in it the night before. On foot, at least he could get fresh air.

The sun was just beginning to rise when Nyx arrived at headquarters. He half-expected to be the first one there, but he wasn't. Luche had beaten him there, and was already executing perfect warp strikes across the training ground. “Suck up”, Libertus had said to Nyx of Luche when they had first met him. It had made Nyx smile, but he wasn't sure it was entirely true. There was something else about Luche that went beyond perfectionism and beyond a simple desire to be the Captain's favorite. He was good at what he did, and all the other glaives respected him immensely. 

The morning was chilly and his thoughts were starting to become too loud, so Nyx started with laps, trying to lose himself in the endless pounding of his feet on the ground as he circled the training yard again and again. 

It wasn't long before Crowe fell into step beside him, puffing slightly. "Hey." 

“Hey.” They made it back around to the building and Nyx slowed to a stop. Crowe followed his lead.

“You're here early,” she observed, leaning against one of the columns on the building's elegant facade, watching him.

“Couldn't sleep.”

“Still the nightmares?”

Nyx didn't look up at her. “No. It's the damn subway. It rattles the whole apartment every ten minutes. Makes it a little hard to sleep.”

“Mm-hmm,” Crowe said. She looked like she didn't believe him, but she generously kept her opinions to herself. 

“I've been meaning to ask you,” Nyx said, grasping at the first subject change that he could think of. “What is it like? For you, I mean?” More glaives were starting to trickle into the training yard, although there was no sign of Libertus yet.

“The magic?” Crowe leaned her head back and thought for a minute. “Mmm...it's different.”

“But how does it work for you? Does it just make your magic stronger? Or what?”

She shrugged. “It's hard to separate the two. I don't always know where my magic ends and where the Ling's begins. Maybe there isn't a clear line. However it works, though, I don't feel like I'm constantly holding my magic on a leash anymore.”

“Does that mean your magic is gone?”

“I don't think so. I just think that whatever the King does-” she waved her hand vaguely - “somehow helps keep my own magic under control. His is stronger than mine, and for some reason, it helps. I don't understand it, but I'm not about to question it either. I feel like I can really breathe for the first time in years. You have no idea how good that feels.”

“Morning.” Pelna approached then, looking a little sleepy-eyed, but otherwise awake. Of all the glaives Nyx had become acquainted with over the last few weeks, Pelna was by far the friendliest and easiest to get along with.

“Morning,” Nyx said.

“Don't remind me,” Crowe said. 

“Glaives. Form up.” 

Captain Drautos came striding out of the headquarters, barking at them like it wasn't the obscenely early hour that it was. Luche was the first to dart to attention, although Nyx, Crowe, and all the rest followed. Out of the corner of his eye, Nyx say Libertus slip into the yard and into the line just in the nick of time.

Despite the fact that it been less than a month since they had joined the glaive, Drautos had made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of babying them. They trained with the others in the morning, and the intent seemed to be that they would either learn quickly, or they would get discouraged and leave. Either way, it worked well for Drautos. When it came to the more specialized skills - the warping and the magic-using - they had had a few sessions of instruction, enough to familiarize them with the techniques. Beyond that, they were expected to hone their own skills. And if they weren't progressing to the Captain's approval, he had assured them that they would hear about it.

For this particular morning's training, Nyx found himself paired with Tredd, a red-headed loud mouth. Tredd had more training than Nyx, and was undeniably better, but Nyx was a quick study. Over the course of the morning, Tredd disarmed Nyx more times, but Nyx managed to send Tredd's weapon flying enough times that Tredd was clearly annoyed. 

The sun was high in the sky before Drautos released them to the mess hall for lunch. The food was terrible, as always, but Nyx couldn't be sure if that was because it was mess hall food, or because all Lucian food was always bland and tasteless. 

“I mean, did they even season this?” Libertus asked in disbelief as he picked at his food. “What kind of barbarians cook without spices?”

Crowe looked up from where she was shoveling food into her mouth. “ 's fine to me,” she mumbled around her mouthful. “Quit complaining.”

“Galahd could teach these people a thing or two about cooking,” Libertus said. “Right, Nyx?”

Nyx gave a noncommittal nod.

“You should be thankful you even can eat,” Pelna said, sitting down across from them. “When I first joined, I used to get so sick I would just throw up most of what I ate.”

“Warping?” Crowe asked.

“It's a nasty thing to get used to,” Pelna said. “I don't even know if I am used to it yet.”

“It's unnatural,” Libertus said decidedly. “I mean, for a second there, you're just gone. Poof. Can't be safe.”

“Has anyone ever died warping?” Crowe asked curiously.

“Not that I know of,” Pelna said. “But you should have seen Tredd when he first joined. Someone dared him to warp up to the top of one of the bridges. He did it, 'cause he's an idiot, but he misjudged and only made it halfway up. He fell the rest of the way back down.”

Libertus and Crowe winced in appreciation.

“Did he land on his head?” Crowe asked. “Is that why he's such an asshole?”

Libertus snorted.

Nyx listened to them talking. He nodded occasionally, but otherwise kept to himself. He hadn't told Libertus or Crowe, mostly because he didn't want them to worry about the implications of such an admission, but he loved warping. While his friends struggled with it, and even the more senior glaives still fought to control their stomachs, Nyx took to it like he was born to it. It was so natural that it almost disturbed him. Of course he needed more combat training. Of course he needed more experience. But warping? It was almost as natural as breathing. It was like flying. It was freedom and it was release and it was power. It was everything he would have needed to save Selena. It was too late for her, and he could admit that to himself. But with this kind of power? He could save people. He could be invincible.

That afternoon, Nyx was assigned to the Citadel Guard with Pelna. Which meant that after they had showered and cleaned up and Nyx had finally buttoned his jacket all the way, he found himself standing at the top of the steps to the Citadel. Pelna stood at the other side of the huge, arched doorway.

It would have been almost as boring as the old days at the post office, except for the fact that he had Pelna to talk to. And Pelna could _talk._ Strictly speaking, they weren't really supposed to be talking at all. Whenever anyone walked past, or even came within hearing distance, Pelna would shut up and they would both snap to attention. In between these moments, however, Nyx got an earful about almost the entire Kingsglaive.

“We're all dirt here,” Pelna explained cheerfully. “I mean, just look at the way these snobs look at us. They need us, because we can use the king's magic and they can't. We fight their war. We keep them safe. But it's no secret that they can't stand us. Not only are we supposedly a "drain on their resources", but we're living proof of a war that they would all just like to pretend isn't happening.”

“All of the Kingsglaive are refugees, then?” Nyx asked.

“More or less,” Pelna agreed. “Some of us have been here longer than others. But none of us belong here. And we all know it. Take Axis, for example. He's been here since he was just a little kid. His parents were run out of their home by the Empire years ago. Then they died and he was left to raise the other kids by himself. He's got five little brothers and sisters. You believe that? And every day he goes out to fight Insomnia's battles, while those kids - all of whom were born here - live underneath this city and get spit on by the Lucian elites.”

“Tredd, now, he's another story,” Pelna went on. “He'll never tell you himself, but word gets around. The way I hear it, he grew up in a small city somewhere. Was part of some kind of gang. You want to know how he got that scar?”

Nyx knew what scar Pelna was talking about, a thin white line than ran down the side of Tredd's face, ending just at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Me too. But I can't get him to tell me. Every time I ask, I just get a wilder and wilder story. But he had it before he came here.”

“So, the Empire attacked his city?” Nyx asked.

A group of courtiers passed them, continuing on down the citadel steps, and they both jumped to attention.

“It wasn't an exactly an attack,” Pelna said, as soon as it was clear. “The Empire just showed up and the local government folded and let them take over. Just like that. Empire started rounding up all the people they thought might be young and dumb enough to resist. Apparently, Tredd was one of them.”

“What happened?”

Pelna shrugged. “Don't know. I never heard that part. Guess he made it here somehow. That was about two years ago.”

“Huh,” Nyx said, mentally updating his opinion of Tredd. “What do you know about Luche?”

“Luche? What a head-case,” Pelna said. “Seriously, that guy has issues.”

Nyx almost laughed. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“He was one of the first glaives to be recruited. It's all hearsay, of course, but the version I heard is that his family lived someplace out west. I guess they were sending Luche to university in Insomnia when the fighting broke out back home. Killed everyone he ever knew. So he joined up. It's no secret that he beats himself up about it. Blames himself for not being there. You know how it is.”

The shock must have shown on Nyx's face, because Pelna let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. What a bunch of misfits. What the hell are we doing defending the free world?”

“No, that's not what I was thinking at all,” Nyx said hastily. “I guess I just...didn't realize.”

“Everybody's got a sob story, you know?” Pelna said. “So we put ourselves to work for Drautos and try to forget. Because what else can you do?”

“What about you, then?” Nyx asked. “If you don't mind my asking?”

“Me?” Pelna chuckled. “It could have been worse. I never knew my parents in the first place. My older sister and I grew up with our granny. After our village was burned to the ground, all three of us made it to Insomnia ok.” 

They straightened and stopped talking again as two figures began climbing the citadel steps, and Nyx reflected on the profoundly screwed-up situation that could lead to a person referring to the total loss of their home and previous life as something that “could have been a lot worse.”

The two figures on the steps drew closer and Nyx realized with a jolt that the shorter one was the Prince. He was wearing a school uniform with the shirt un-tucked and the tie loosened. He walked with a slouch, hands jammed deep into his pockets, and he stared at the ground. Nyx didn't recognize the second person, but he was dressed immaculately and was waving his hands in frustration as he spoke.

“...been over this time and time again. I don't know what's going to get it through your head. You simply must pay attention to these things. You must make an effort.”

Prince Noctis shrugged, looking bored. “Why do I need to when I've got you?”

“And what do you imagine would happen if I weren't here? What if something were to happen to me? Have you ever considered how you would manage?”

“Hm, nope. Never considered it.”

“Well I, for one, find it truly alarming how easily you-”

“Listen, Iggy, I've gotta go. Gladio's waiting. Can we do this another time?”

“When? When precisely would you like to have this conversation?” 

“Um, never, now that you mention it.”

The two made their way past the glaives, never once even looking at them. Nyx imagined the letter he might have written home to Selena. _Hey Selena, I saw the prince today. Remember when you used to have a crush on him? Well, turns out he's kind of a little brat. Just thought you ought to know._

“Anyway,” Pelna said, when the prince and his adviser were out of earshot. “Where was I?”

“Do you know much about Drautos?” Nyx asked. “What's his story?” He was genuinely curious. He found the Captain hard to read. There were days he was convinced the man hated him, days when he was convinced that he was pleased with Nyx's performance and progress, and other days when he couldn't get a read on him at all. 

Pelna shrugged. “None of us really know. He doesn't talk about it, but then again, none of us really do. We know he's not from Insomnia. He's one of us, not one of these uptight Lucian prigs.”

“Anyway,” Pelna concluded. “I guess all I'm trying to say is that we all get it. Here in the glaive, we're all outsiders. We're all alive when we feel like we have no right to be. So now we're just trying to do the best we can with that. It's tough, at first. I'm not saying it isn't. But...you get used to it. You swear you won't. But you do. And that's the truth.”

The day rolled on and Pelna changed the subject, perhaps sensing Nyx's discomfort. He told Nyx stories about different missions the glaives had been on, and shared far more Citadel gossip than Nyx ever cared to hear. He even succeeded in making Nyx laugh a couple of times. 

At the end of the day, they were relieved by a pair of Crownsguard soldiers. Nyx stretched gratefully, his back and shoulders aching from the hours of standing like a statue.

“What do you say?” Pelna asked. “Some of us are getting together tonight for a couple of drinks. I'm buying. You in?”

Nyx gave a thin smile. “Thanks, but I'm beat. Think I might just go home and pass out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Pelna said. “Another early morning tomorrow.” He patted Nyx on the shoulder. “Take care, ok?”

Nyx nodded and watched as Pelna walked off and disappeared into the throng. He unbuttoned his coat, shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly wandered off in the opposite direction. He took the long way home, descending the stairs to the lower levels, and winding his way through the narrow streets choked with people. The near constant babble of voices down here was comforting, in a way. It blocked out the sound of his own thoughts. 

He bought himself something to eat from a street vendor that smelled like they at least bothered to season their food with _something._ He ended up throwing half of it away because chewing and swallowing was too much work and really, he wasn't hungry anyway. 

He delayed going home as long as he could, but inevitably, he arrived back at his own door all too soon. He let himself in, pulled off his boots, and collapsed onto the bed. Outside, the city kept moving by at a fever pitch. The subway raced past, somewhere beneath him, and the cabinets rattled violently in response. 

Lying on his side, he held out his hand and coaxed the small flame into his palm again. He watched, mesmerized as it wavered and danced, never once burning him. His body was exhausted, but he was anything but sleepy. His stomach growled at him, reminding him that he hadn't exactly been feeding it regular meals, but he didn't feel like eating.

This was his life now. He supposed he should feel grateful. He got to survive. He got to keep on fighting. A lot of people would say that was a gift.

It wasn't something he had ever given much thought to, before. But now that he was faced with the facts, he realized just how much more difficult living was than dying. Dying was easy, he imagined. You just...ended. But living? Living meant the prospect of facing an endless cycle of sunrises and sunsets. Of forcing yourself to keep going - every day waking up and having to live with yourself and all the things you wished you could have done. All the things you wish you could take back. All the ghosts that refused to leave you alone. Living was terrifying.

Anyone who was afraid of death was a fool, he decided. Or perhaps just extremely fortunate in their life. It seemed to him that anyone who had ever truly tasted the darkness that haunted the edges of life would know the truth. Death wasn't the tragedy. Life was.

He closed his fist over the flame, feeling the slight ripple in the energy current inside him as the fire was snuffed out. He didn't know how many hours he lay there before his eyes eventually drifted shut. The nightmares began again, and the cycle continued.


	10. The Argument

“They're starting to break through at the tower. I need some help here,” Luche's voice came through Nyx's earpiece, fizzling with static. “Does anyone copy?”

Nyx did, in fact, copy. The only problem was that he was slightly preoccupied with the pair of daemons that were closing in on either side of him. One of them had the alarming ability to spit poison that burned when it came into contact with skin, and the other one featured a nasty set of claws. 

“I'm a bit busy, Luche!” he yelled, throwing his blade and warping out of the way just in time to avoid a swipe of the daemon's claws. He landed beneath the clawed monster's belly, between its four legs, and managed to stab it in its soft underbelly. The daemon shrieked and dissolved into vapor. Nyx scrambled to his feet and turned around to face the second daemon, just in time to see the daemon spitting a stream of venom. He couldn't dodge fast enough and the poison caught him right on his shoulder.

Nyx yelled in pain as the venom sizzled on contact, melting straight through his jacket and burning the skin underneath. Still, there was no time to stop and examine the burn. The daemon snapped at him and Nyx threw up a shield just in time. The daemon's teeth crashed against the shield, which shattered into pieces that rained down around Nyx like glass. He warped wildly, reappearing in the air above the daemon, and dismantling it with a slash to the back of the neck, before warping back down to the ground. He landed as the daemon dissolved behind him. Two down. Hundreds to go. 

They were defending a small section of the coast, not too far south of Insomnia. Word had reached the city two days ago of a massive advancing daemon hoard, no doubt the work of the Empire. The glaive had been deployed, and they had spent the day evacuating civilians from the nearby town. Night had fallen and the daemons had come out. The glaives had spent the night fighting to defend the thin strip of beach from the waves of daemons. The battle had ended at daybreak, although the daemons were far from defeated. This was the second night of the battle, and they were all exhausted and spent. Many of them were sporting injuries, and yet the daemons kept coming, with no end in sight.

Nyx heard Pelna's voice in his earpiece. “I'm on it. I'm not far from the tower. Be right there!”

The tower Luche spoke of was an old stone watchtower not far down the beach. Nyx threw a glance at it now, and immediately saw the problem. The daemons were rushing out of the water, an entire hoard that was descending onto the tower in a howling, shrieking mass. There was no way Pelna and Luche were going to be able to handle that on their own.

He threw his blade in the general direction of the oncoming hoard, feeling the familiar tug in the center of his gut before he shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, only to find himself reassembled with a jolt, his kukri firmly back in his grasp. He saw Pelna emerge from a warp, stumbling to the ground, and begin running up the spiral staircase that wound around the outside of the tower. Nyx saw him raise his hand, summoning a small ice-storm in his palm before launching it down into the midst of the daemons. 

The ice exploded into their midst, and they scattered for barely a moment before regrouping. Luche was down in the thick of them, one minute ducking beneath a magic shield, the next moment hurling lightning bolts at the oncoming daemons. Nyx ran as hard as he could, warping again, closing the distance between himself and the tower. One daemon was taking flight, gaining altitude on its spindly wings and headed right for Pelna. Pelna waited for it to get close enough and caught it right in the head with a blow from his dagger. It exploded into yellow slime.

“Uhhgghh, that's disgusting,” Pelna complained, wiping the slime from his face. He was distracted, momentarily, and Nyx was close enough now to see the second daemon launching itself towards Pelna's blind side.

“Pelna, MOVE!” Nyx yelled before launching into a warp. Pelna looked up in alarm just as Nyx emerged from his warp, knocking his friend out of the daemon's trajectory and off the staircase. They both dropped to the sand below, landing in a fizzing shower of blue sparks.

“Thanks,” Pelna groaned. “I think.”

“Don't mention it,” Nyx said, picking himself up off the ground. He tapped his earpiece to life. “Guys, we could use a little help over here!”

“What, do I have to do everything around here?” Tredd's voice came over the earpiece. “Incoming!”

Tredd crash-landed beside them, grinning like a maniac, daemon blood dripping from his blade. “What's happening, guys?”

Pelna pointed wordlessly towards the daemon hoard that was still emerging from the water.

Far off, above the water, the sky was beginning to grow light. Dawn was not far off. They just had to hold out a little longer.

The nearest daemon reached him, a dog-like creature that Nyx had never seen before that seemed to be breathing ice. Nyx dodged the blast and countered with a fireball. Tredd moved in as the daemon yelped in pain, cutting its throat. 

They fought their way forward, cutting through the daemons until they reached Luche. He had retreated beneath a shield and was doing his best to hold it in place against the daemons that crashed into it. Pieces of the shield were starting to break off, shattering onto the sand. 

“It's about time,” Luche said, sounding annoyed. 

Nyx ignored him and continued cutting through the daemons. Dodge here, strike there. Shield up, wait a beat, fire cast. Luche lowered his shield and Tredd and Nyx joined him so that the four of them fought, side by side.

They were so focused on what they were doing that none of them saw the enormous wave coming until it broke over the beach, leaving them and the daemons drenched in salt water. 

The wave wasn't the concerning part. The concerning part was the thing that had caused the wave.

“What the...?” Tredd started, but trailed off as they all fell back a step, taking in the monster that was approaching from the water.

It was a malboro, the biggest one Nyx had ever seen. It loomed above the watchtower, above the scraggling trees that grew on the beach, above everything. It probably wasn't even the work of the Empire, Nyx figured. Probably just attracted to all the commotion of the battle and interested in finding something to eat. It was squirming its way through the shallows towards the beach. Its yellow eyes were fixed squarely on them and its tentacles kicked up wave after wave that came rolling towards them on the beach.

“Uhhh....guys?” Pelna said feebly. “Are you seeing this?”

“Crowe!” Nyx called. “Now would be a great time to come do something helpful!”

Crowe's voice came over the radio. “Lib and I have almost finished down here. Can it wait?”

“Definitely not,” Pelna said.

“Shit,” Nyx said, watching the malboro's movements. It gave a shudder, and its mouth began to open, revealing long, jagged teeth. “Run!”

Nyx warped to the side, while Tredd ducked around behind the tower and Pelna attempted to literally run away. Nyx heard the monster's roar and he hit the ground as fast as he could, burying his face in his sleeve. He could feel the air around him turning hot and putrid, and could smell the horrible rotten-greenhouse smell as the toxic fumes poured out of the malboro's mouth. He gagged and flattened himself to the ground, trying his best not to breathe it in. 

When the blast seemed to have stopped, Nyx looked up. Tredd was unharmed, but Pelna was on the ground and he wasn't moving. At least half the daemons on the beach appeared to have been killed in the crossfire of the malboro's toxin.

Nyx jumped to his feet, blasting the malboro with a bolt of lightning before kneeling next to Pelna. He was still breathing, and he wasn't visibly injured. He was just very, very unconscious. 

“He must have gotten full blast of it,” Nyx said. “We've gotta get him out of here.”

“Really? Because I think we've gotta deal with this thing first,” Tredd snapped. 

Nyx swore. “Crowe!”

Nyx heard the telltale sparking and popping noise of someone warping and then Crowe appeared beside him in a flash of blue sparks. Her hair was wild and she looked a little breathless, but she was all right. Libertus appeared beside them a few moments later, looking winded.

“Holy shit,” she said, looking up at the malboro. “What have you boys gotten yourself into this time?” 

“Well? Got any bright ideas?” Nyx asked as they ducked to avoid a swipe from an enormous tentacle. 

“Maybe,” she said. “A couple of us together should be able to summon enough lightning to take it out. It'll take a minute, though. It'll open its mouth again before we have a chance.”

“Not if I keep it distracted,” Nyx said. 

“That's a terrible – Nyx, wait!” Luche's protests followed him, but Nyx was already warping. He plowed bodily into the malboro, slicing through its thick, rubbery skin with his kukri. The monster roared and shook itself, flicking him off like a dead leaf. Nyx went flying and slammed into the sand several feet away. He didn't even bother to stand before he flung his weapon and warped again, materializing dangerously close to the roving tentacles. He slashed and whirled, cutting off tentacles while dodging the malboro's outraged attempts to pin him to the ground. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Crowe, Libertus, Tredd, and Luche raised their hands skyward. Overhead, dark clouds began to gather. 

One of the tentacles slammed into him, right between the shoulder blades, and knocked him forwards. He lost his grip on his knife and accidentally inhaled a lungful of water as his head went beneath the surface of the shallows. He broke the surface, coughing up water, and looked about frantically for his knife. 

Lightning was beginning to crackle in the sky. 

He spotted the kukri, washing up on the beach not far away. He dashed for it, but was intercepted by another mighty swipe of the tentacles and knocked flying. His head slammed into a rock with a crack as he landed painfully. Stars swam in front of his vision, but he could see clearly enough to realize that he was lying not far from his knife. He could also see well enough to see that the malboro was preparing to open its mouth again. He flung himself forward onto his stomach, fingers grasping for the dagger, and warped blindly forward. 

He crashed into the malboro and his head rang with its resounding roar of rage.

“Nyx!” he heard Crowe yell. “Get out of there!”

He didn't wait to be told twice. He dodged a rogue tentacle and flung his kukri back towards the others on the beach.

He collapsed onto the damp sand not a moment too soon. 

“Now!”

The dark cloud unleashed a torrent of lightning bolts. They fell from the sky like rain, dancing down the malboro's body and burying themselves in the water. The malboro screamed in fury as smoke rolled off its body. Its tentacles gave a few last, dying convulsions before it collapsed into the water and was still. 

The glaives dropped their hands and Crowe pulled Nyx to his feet. 

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

They stood there a moment, catching their breaths.

Sonitus's voice came over the radio. “We're finished here. Did you guys save anything for us over there?”

Crowe started laughing first. Then Nyx and Tredd joined in. Even Luche cracked a smile. Libertus only scowled and reached over to smack the side of Nyx's head. “You're a reckless jerk, you know that?”

There were a few, scattered daemons left, but the sky was growing light and it was quick work to finish them off. The last few were vaporized instantly as soon as the first sun rays rose above the horizon. Pelna came around, groggy and complaining of a pounding headache, but was otherwise unharmed.

With the daemons gone, Nyx took a moment to assess his condition. His eyes still burned and watered from the malboro poison and his head was throbbing, although his couldn't remember why. The burn on his shoulder was painful, and radiated fire across his chest and up his neck, but it wasn't serious. He was still in one piece. They had suffered no casualties and had kept the daemons from advancing past the beach. In Nyx's book, that was a win. 

It wasn't long before the transports rolled up and Drautos stepped out. He looked immediately out of place. His spotless uniform and cloak looked almost comical next to the blood, dirt, and sweat that stained the glaives' uniforms. 

“Report.”

Luche snapped to attention. “Sir. The daemon numbers were heavily strengthened over the course of yesterday, and presented a far greater challenge tonight than they did last night. Despite this, we managed to kill all but a few. I strongly doubt they will return tomorrow night. This was a victory for us, sir.”

“Not that it matters,” Tredd muttered under his breath. “There'll just be more.”

Drautos looked at him sharply. “Still. We'll take every victory we can get. Ulric, should I be concerned about the amount of blood on your face?”

Nyx reached up, surprised to find his hand came away stained with blood. He had forgotten about the rock he had collided with, but now that Drautos mentioned it, that would explain the dull throbbing. “Had a run in with a rock, sir. Nothing to worry about.”

“Take care of it. Khara, what happened to you?”

Pelna, who was leaning against Crowe and looking extremely green, chose this precise moment to throw up. 

“Malboro, sir,” Libertus supplied helpfully.

“Take the day tomorrow. Sleep it off.”

“Right.”

It didn't take long for the glaives to be loaded into the transports and driven off. Pelna sat hunched over a bucket someone had found. Every few minutes, he would convulse and lean forward, vomiting up the malboro poison 

“Ugghh, that's just nasty,” Tredd complained. “Do you really have to do that in here?”

“Get your own truck, then,” Pelna croaked. 

“Ignore him,” Crowe said, slapping him on the back. “Better out than in.”

“Remember the first daemons we ever fought?” Libertus asked, elbowing Nyx. “Do you remember how I threw up afterwards?”

Nyx nodded and said nothing.

“You know what I could go for right now?” Libertus asked. “I'd love to be just coming home from a night at the bar. Maybe I had a drink or two myself at some point...maybe I'd stop by your place for some breakfast before going home and crashing...”

“Speaking of drinks,” Nyx said, purposefully interrupting Libertus's reminiscing. “Tonight?”

Crowe waved a hand noncommittally. “If I've managed to drag my sleep-deprived ass out of bed by then. I swear, if any of you text me and wake me up, I will personally roast you alive.”

Nyx agreed wholeheartedly. His eyes were heavy and the gently rocking of the truck was so soothing that he almost dozed off right then and there. Although maybe he did, because the next thing he knew, Libertus was shaking his shoulder. 

“We're back.” 

The sun was high in the sky as they crossed the suspension bridge and entered into the protective bubble that was the Wall. 

It was a sharp contrast to the scene they had just left. The city was peaceful. The wall glistened faintly overhead, almost invisible but for the faint reflections of the city below. Cars inched slowly along, bumper to bumper, and pedestrians walked about, talking and laughing. Nyx was glad to be within the confines of the truck. He felt distinctly out of place in his burned, bloody armor. 

The people of Insomnia enjoyed their peace, and he didn't begrudge them that. He had learned, however, that they were extremely uninterested in knowing how that peace was won. His current appearance would serve as little more than an unwelcome reminder of the reality of life beyond the wall.

The trucks drove them to the glaive headquarters, not far from the Citadel. They were all dead on their feet, but they stood at attention while Drautos debriefed them. He kept it blessedly short and sent them all home.

Nyx stumbled home blearily, doing his best to ignore all the strange looks that passers-by shot his way. He kept his head down and just kept walking until he arrived at his apartment. It sat untouched, exactly as he had left it two days ago. He shoved the door closed behind him, and crossed the room to his bed, shedding items of clothing as he went and dropping them haphazardly on the floor. When he reached his bed, he collapsed onto it, still wearing whatever was left, and passed out almost instantly. 

\----

He woke up stiff and disoriented, with no sense of what time it was. His body felt like a ton of bricks - like he had been asleep for years. He squinted across the room at the glowing numbers of the clock, which informed him that it was 8:26. He did a quick calculation; he had been out for about 9 hours.

He felt like he would like to sleep for 9 more, but he was also slowly becoming aware of the fact that he smelled like a malboro, and he still had dried blood caked onto the side of his face.

His body protested his decision to get up, but he persisted. In the shower, he inspected the burn on his chest and confirmed that, while painful, it wasn't serious. The gash on the back of his head had stopped bleeding, and didn't seem to be particularly large either. Upon exiting the shower, he discovered that he had inadvertently stained his pillow with streaks of blood. To his annoyance, his entire bed looked like someone had been murdered in it.

The clock ticked loudly and the apartment rattled as the subway hurtled by underneath. He grimly pulled the sheets off his bed, determined to keep himself busy so as not to let his thoughts get too loud.

His phone buzzed and he jumped at the chance for a distraction. It was Crowe. _“Drinks?”_

He was overcome with relief at the prospect of not having to spend the evening alone in his apartment. He typed back: _“I love you. Yes please!”_

She responded almost immediately: _“I'll rally the others.”_

Gratefully, he abandoned his bloody bedding in a heap on the floor and threw on some semblance of clean clothes before he was out the door. 

The city was crawling with activity as he made his way through it. Since he was dressed as a civilian, pedestrians freely bumped into him. Stall owners shouted at him and cajoled him to try to get him to buy something. He was used ignoring them, or waving a polite hand to decline. This time, however something caught his eye. One stall in particular sold phone accessories, keychains, and the like. Amidst a pile of other trinkets, Nyx spotted the tiny malboro figurine, designed to be clipped onto a phone. He broke into a smile, handed over a few coins and tucked it into his pocket. Crowe would get a kick out of it.

She and the others were already there by the time Nyx arrived. 

“Hey!” Crowe yelled at him from her place at the table. “Get over here, hero!”

That led to a round of cheers from the other glaives. Nyx groaned and hung his head. “Not that again.”

“I'm telling you guys,” Crowe said. “This guy was an absolute maniac with that malboro this morning.” 

“Absolute moron, more like,” Tredd said. “I mean, are you trying to show off? Or can you honestly not help it anymore?”

“Somebody's gotta pick up your slack,” Nyx said, sliding into a chair and accepting the drink Axis passed him. 

For a second, Tredd looked mad before he started laughing. “Whatever. I've saved your ass more times than you'd like to admit.”

“Which times was that, again?” Luche asked, looking up at the ceiling.

Everyone laughed, except for Libertus, who was slumped in his chair, glaring darkly down into his glass.

“Speaking of that malboro,” Nyx said to Crowe, reaching into his pocket. “I got you a present.”

“Ooo, a present? Show!”

Nyx pulled the figurine from his pocket and presented it to her grandly. “Thank you very much for zapping that monster. I like not being dead.”

Crowe squeaked in delight. “Ugh, it's so ugly!”

Nyx pretended to be offended. “I can take it back.”

She snatched it from him and held it out of his reach. “Absolutely not. I love it. I'll keep it and every time I look at it, I'll remember what a lunatic you are.”

“Hang on, I helped too. Do I get a present?” Pelna asked. He was still a shade paler than normal, but he didn't appear to be throwing up anymore.

“Quit lying,” Tredd protested. “You were out cold. You did nothing.”

“What are you even doing here?” Nyx asked. “Shouldn't you be, I don't know, sleeping it off or something?”

Pelna shrugged. “Apartment's too quiet.”

Nyx couldn't argue with that.

Everyone else seemed to feel the same way, and the mood went flat. Crowe raised her glass. “For hearth.”

“And home!” They all echoed her, and took a drink. Nyx closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, breathing in the life and activity, his fellow glaives, the music playing, the sounds of the city all around them. He almost wished he could go to sleep right there. 

“So, Tredd,” Crowe said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Has that girl of yours run for the hills yet? Or is she still laboring under the delusion that you're 'boyfriend material'?”

“She happens to adore me, thank you very much,” Tredd said. “Right before we left for this last mission, she told me I was 'really special'.”

“That's one word for it,” Nyx said, and pretended to cough. Tredd glared at him.

“You ought to give Luche a few tips,” Pelna suggested. “Looks like maybe he could use them.”

“I'll pass,” Luche said flatly.

“Come one,” Crowe said. “In all the time since we've met, you haven't once mentioned anyone special. Like, ever. There must be someone.”

“It hardly seems like a priority,” Luche said stiffly. “When do we have the time for that, anyway?”

“I don't know,” Nyx said. “Tredd seems to find the time.”

“Yeah, but Tredd's an asshole,” Crowe said. “He doesn't count.”

“Maybe our hero could find you a girl, Luche!” Pelna suggested brightly.

Libertus slammed his glass onto the table so hard that everyone jumped. “Can we stop it with this “hero” shit?” 

Conversation faltered as everyone turned to look at Libertus. Strangers at nearby tables stopped talking and glanced nervously over in their direction. 

Crowe smiled and waved. “Sorry! Don't mind us. Long day!”

Conversation slowly resumed in the bar.

“What the hell is your problem?” Crowe demanded.

Libertus shrugged, moodily spinning his glass in circles. “Nothing. I'm just sick to death of you calling Nyx that name.”

“Are you sure that's all?”

Libertus rolled his eyes. “You're not my shrink, Crowe.” He looked up, and realized all of the glaives were staring at him. “Quit looking at me like that!”

Everyone stopped looking, but the mood was effectively killed. It was almost a welcome distraction when everyone's phones began to buzz, going off in a cacophony of different ringtones and vibrations.

Luche got to his first.

“It's Drautos.”

“Already? Don't we get today off?” Tredd asked incredulously.

Nyx looked at the message that they had all apparently received.

_Urgent. Establish radio contact._

They all exchanged worried looks as they switched on their transmitters and tuned them to Drautos's frequency.

Luche spoke. “Captain. What's going on?”

“We've got a situation here. The prince is missing.”

“What?” Nyx stood up so fast he bumped the table, rattling the glasses and sloshing drinks onto the table. “When? How?”

“Apparently, he told everyone a different story about where he was supposed to be this evening. They've only just realized that he's none of the places he's supposed to be.”

“So, it's not a kidnapping then?” Luche asked.

“It doesn't seem like it. Most likely, he gave his guards the slip and ran off like an irrespons....” Drautos's voice trailed off into static for a moment. “The fact is that we don't want to cause a scene. I don't need to tell you why the King is not eager to spread rumors that the prince is somewhere in the city, alone and unguarded. The King has ordered the glaive to search the city, and to get it done quietly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Maintain radio contact. The moment anyone finds anything, I want it reported in.”

“Yes, sir.”

The line went dead.

“Of all the stunts to pull,” Libertus grumbled. 

“Not helpful,” Luche snapped. “All right, we need to be systematic about this. Where would the prince go?”

“His school?”

“Doesn't he have a friend that lives in the city? Maybe he snuck over to his place?”

“He spends a lot of time at the arcade, right?”

Luche made short work of assigning each glaive a location to search. Nyx somehow got left with checking the Amiticita residence. 

“That's a waste of time,” Nyx argued. “There's no way they haven't already looked there. The Amicitias might have even been the ones to notice he was missing.”

“Just do it,” Luche told him in a clipped tone that left no room for disagreement. 

So Nyx swallowed his protests and hurried off in that direction.

As soon as the others had split off to their respective directions, he slowed to a stop. He had to think about this differently. Everyone was going to be checking the obvious places. The places they would expect the prince to go to. Prince Noctis would know this. No runaway with even half a brain in his head would go someplace they could readily count on being found. That much was obvious.

The part that wasn't so obvious was the next question: where would Noctis go instead?

Nyx felt that he could safely rule out the lower levels of the city. It was too crowded, and everyone down there would recognize the prince instantly. For that matter, there were few people in the city who wouldn't recognize the prince, no matter where he went. Which meant he would have gone someplace deserted. Someplace no one would even see him and have the chance to recognize him. 

As Nyx climbed the stairs and emerged onto the street level, he looked up at the Citadel. It loomed sternly, watching over the city like an oppressive, overbearing guard. Lights shone from the windows, distant, hard, and cold. Nyx wondered what the view was like from that high up. He tried to imagine himself as the prince. Bored by his homework, maybe. Tired of learning political stratagem, or whatever it was that kings-in-training actually had to do. Looking out the window and wanting to get away. 

He remembered climbing the mountain back in Galahad, and remembered how small the world had seemed from that high. He remembered seeing the river, the way it cut through the valley like a ribbon, endlessly in motion. He wondered if it looked at all like the canal did from high up in the Citadel.

The canal. 

It was easily spotted from up high. Likely abandoned this time of night. Not the most exciting destination, to be sure, but if the runaway was just looking for a little peace and quiet, it might be the ideal place. At the very least, it was the best idea he had to go on. He took off at a run, passing the neon-soaked nightclubs that pulsed with life and music, the elegant restaurants that flooded soft candlelight out into the streets, and the city skyscrapers that never slept, no matter how late the hour.

The canal stretched out the entire length of the city and had at least 8 different docks, as well as numerous warehouses and storage units along its banks, all of which would be excellent places to hide. Even if the prince was somewhere along the water's edge, it would take hours to search the entire length. 

Nyx wove his way through the city, heading for the dock he knew was closest to the Citadel. The sounds of the city grew quieter as he approached, and he could hear the sound of water slapping against the docks. It was unlikely, but maybe....just maybe...

The scene at the docks was peaceful. The city lights were painted across the dark water in a rainbow of colors. Next to the dock sat a squat warehouse, casting a long shadow out over the water. The water rose and fell in gentle swell, caressing the concrete walls of the canal bed and the wooden legs of the dock. And there – Nyx couldn't believe his luck - a solitary figure sat at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the water. It was the prince. He was dressed all in black, and almost blended into the darkness. He was...fishing?

Nyx wavered for a minute, hanging back in the shadows. Obviously, he had to call it in. There was no question of that. He had to return the prince safely to the Citadel. And yet, it was such a quiet, private moment that Nyx felt like a sudden rush of guilt for being the one to disturb it.

Reluctantly, he cleared his throat. 

The prince didn't look up. “You're late.”

Nyx approached. “What's that suppose to mean?”

Noctis gave the line a tiny reel. “I guessed it would take an hour and 23 minutes for someone to find me. It took you...” he consulted his watch... “an hour and 38 minutes.”

Nyx wasn't sure how to answer that, so he said lamely, “Everyone is worried about you. They've got the entire glaive out looking for you.”

“It won't kill them to worry a few more minutes. I haven't caught anything yet.”

Nyx leaned against the side of the warehouse wall and watched as the lure bobbed - a single dark spot amidst the myriad of colored lights reflected on the water's surface.

“Do you catch much here?”

Noctis shrugged. “Not usually. But they just opened up the lock today, so a couple of fish might have made it up this far.” 

Fishing. It was a fairly innocuous pastime that didn't seem to come with any particularly obvious stereotypes attached. At the same time, however, it somehow clashed with everything Nyx knew, or perhaps had only assumed, about the prince. It made him seem more real, somehow. More human. 

Nyx didn't intend to start a conversation, but the words just sort of slipped out. “My dad tried to teach me how to fish, once,” he said. 

He waited for Noctis to say something, but the prince remained silent. Nyx continued anyway. “I must have been about ten. I was terrible at it. Just didn't have the patience, I guess.” 

He didn't remember much about the long-ago fishing lesson. He remembered being bored as his father attempted to explain that yes, running and jumping in the river would definitely scare the fish away. Selena had been there too, sitting on the river bank and contentedly tangling the extra fishing line beyond repair. 

Noctis still didn't say anything, so Nyx kept talking. “Where did you learn to fish in a city like this? Your Highness?”

Noctis gave the line another gentle reel, and the lure bobbed. “My dad taught me. When I was a kid.”

“I'm surprised he had the time,” Nyx said, before realizing that that might be a sensitive topic.

Noctis just shrugged glumly. “I got hurt pretty bad ...when I was a kid. Couldn't really walk. This was something I could do sitting down, without moving for a long time.” He paused, and then added, “He used to have more time, back then. It seemed like it, anyway.”

Nyx was torn. He had to call Drautos. It was his job. Every guard and soldier in the Citadel was probably combing the city at that very moment, all looking for this one lonesome kid. And yet.

A memory surfaced in his brain. Something Selena had told him back when they first met Crowe. That just because you didn't know or understand what a person was going through, it didn't make it any less real or important.

He switched off his radio. And lowered himself into a sitting position beside the prince, dangling his feet over the gently rolling water. The prince gave him a suspicious side-eye, but said nothing. They sat and watched the lure. They watched as the lights danced on the water. And they watched the stars glisten through the light sheen of the Wall overhead. 

“You know,” Nyx said. “I can see why you'd come here. This is pretty nice. It kind of reminds me of the river back home.”

Noctis gave up on that particular spot in the canal and reeled his line in slowly, before recasting, his lure a little further out. “Where's your home?”

“Galahd.”

Noctis wrapped his hands carefully around the fishing pole and settled himself into a more comfortable position to wait. “I've never been there. I know my Dad has.”

“I remember,” Nyx said. “He came and gave a speech.”

“I guess what happened there was...pretty awful,” Noctis said awkwardly.

The raid on Galahd was number one on Nyx's list of things-he-didn't-want-to-talk-about. So he changed the subject. “What's the idea here, anyway? Why the whole runaway thing?”

Noctis shrugged and didn't answer.

Nyx figured that was fair and didn't ask again. They sat in silence for a little while longer.

Noctis was the first one to break the silence. “I know who you are. You're the one they all call the hero, or something stupid like that.”

Nyx rolled his eyes. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never escape that nickname. “You of all people ought to realize. You can't believe everything you hear about a person.”

Noctis gave a short, bitter laugh. “I guess you're right.”

Nyx held out his hand to Noctis. “May I?”

Noctis passed the fishing pole to Nyx. Nyx held it gingerly, trying to recall something – anything, really – from that one fishing lesson over a decade ago.

“Loosen your grip,” Noctis instructed. “You look like it's going to bite you.”

Nyx did as he was told, and they both watched as the line settled into an easy slack. 

“Better?”

“Well, it's not worse,” Noctis said. 

“Ow. That's harsh.”

Nyx thought he saw the ghost of a grin flash across Noctis's face.

“So, do you do this often?” Nyx asked.

“What, fish?”

“No, this. Sneaking out. Sending the entire Citadel into a panic.”

“What, you want me to tell you so you can tell my Dad?” Noctis asked. “No thanks.”

“Listen,” Nyx said. “I'm a glaive. That means I take my orders from the crown. And yeah, that means your Dad, but that also means you, I think. I'm duty-bound to keep any secret entrusted to me by the crown. So unless you tell me you're planning to blow up the Citadel or something, anything you tell me, stays with me.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. His shoulders slumped and Nyx watched as he dug his fingers into the wood of the dock.

He spoke without looking at Nyx, his voice low and despondent. “Do you ever feel like....you have no control? Over any of it? Like, no matter what you do. No matter how hard you try to fight it. Do you ever feel like everything is set in stone, and there's nothing you can do to change it? Like nothing you do even matters, because it's all going to end the same way anyway?”

It was Nyx's turn to let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Every day.”

“So what do you do about it?” 

Nyx thought about it. He had no illusions about his life. He knew how it was going to end. He was going to die fighting this endless war. Maybe he had years left, maybe only days. But someday, a daemon or an MT was going to get lucky. And that would be the end of Nyx Ulric and all of his so-called heroism. No matter what he did in the meantime, it didn't change the fact that this end was still waiting for him. And not just him. For all of the glaives. All of his friends. Every day it seemed, they lost comrades in battle and every day they knew they could be next. One night last year, one of their fellow glaives hadn't been able to take it anymore and had put a bullet through his own skull. They all knew how it was going to end. Nothing was going to change that.

He thought about the way all the glaives handled this sobering truth. They avoided their silent, empty apartments filled with ghosts. They spent their free time drinking and laughing and teasing one another. They joked about their circumstances like they didn't care. They threw themselves into their training. The unspoken agreement between all of them was that they needed it, desperately. The forced laughter was the only thing left. To tell a joke and try to pretend the nightmares weren't so bad. 

Of course, these weren't exactly the same worries that weighed on Noctis's mind. But that didn't make the prince's own worries less real. Although Nyx couldn't begin to imagine what they might be, he figured the prince had a few nightmares of his own.

Nyx exhaled slowly. “I guess I haven't figured that out. I think....everyone handles it a little differently. Mostly, though, you just keep going the only way you can. You keep doing the only things you can do, the only way you know how. And maybe, someday, it gets better. Easier. Maybe it doesn't always feel so heavy.”

He attempted to fiddle with the reel, and the line jerked crazily.

“Don't. You'll scare the fish.”

Nyx handed it back. “Here. You should probably take this.”

The prince took the rod back.

Nyx spoke carefully, acutely aware of how very much this was none of his business. “Have you ever thought about...I don't know...moving out?”

“What?”

“You know. Getting your own place. Do princes do that kind of thing?”

“I....don't know. I guess I never really thought about it.”

“Well, maybe think about it. Sure, your dad would probably have us guarding it night and day. But it beats having to run away and send the whole citadel into an uproar just because you want some alone time. You could at least ask, anyway. The worst he can do is say no, right?”

“I guess,” Noctis said slowly. “Maybe.”

Nyx glanced down at his watch. He realized guiltily that had been sitting there for almost fifteen minutes, while the rest of the glaives were still running around frantically looking for the prince.

He regretted the words even as he forced himself to speak them. “You know I have to take you back. Do you want to go now, or do you need a few more minutes?”

The prince began slowly reeling his line in. “Might as well be now,” he said, his voice flat. “No point trying to fight the inevitable.”

Nyx waited until the line was reeled in before standing and offering his hand to help the prince up. “I guess we keep going, huh? Until we can't go anymore.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, and Nyx saw the sullen prince mask slipping back, taking the place of the Noctis he had been talking with for the last few minutes. “Sure.”

Noctis didn't say another word the whole way back. They were greeted at the Citadel by a small army of guards and attendants. Noctis brushed them off and muttered that he was fine, just fine. Nyx tried to catch his eye, but the prince was hurried away into the Citadel without so much as a backward glance. Nyx hung awkwardly outside for a moment, but quickly realized he was no longer wanted and wandered away.

 _Hey Selena,_ he thought to himself as he made his way back to his apartment. _I saw the prince today. Remember when I said he was a little brat? Well, turns out that maybe he's not so bad after all. Just thought you ought to know._

He opened the door to his apartment only to find that it was crowded with glaives. His appearance was greeted by a round of cheers.

“None of you live here,” he complained, somewhere between glad that his apartment wasn't empty, and annoyed that it was so extremely full. 

“We heard you found his royal brattiness!” Tredd said. 

“Where was he?” Pelna demanded. “What happened?”

Nyx wearily shut the door behind him and dumped his coat on top of Crowe, who was sitting cross-legged on his desk. She dumped it onto the ground. 

“Not much to tell. He was down by one the canal. I took him home.”

“Bullshit,” Tredd said. “There's gotta be more to it.”

“I'm more concerned with why he ran off in the first place,” Luche asked. “Is this going to keep happening?”

“I don't think so,” Nyx said. “At least I hope not.”

His lackluster explanation quickly bored his audience, which immediately began to dissipate. Libertus lingered, however. 

“What made you think to check the canal?”

“Lucky guess,” Nyx said, pulling off his boots.

“Can you believe the nerve of that kid?”Libertus asked. “As if we all haven't got enough to do. He has to go and make more trouble for us by sneaking out?”

Nyx sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “I don't know. He's not so bad. From what it sounds like, he might have a tough time of it, too.”

Nyx jumped as Libertus slammed his fist down on the table. “Seriously? You're going to take his side?”

“What are you so upset about?” Nyx asked. He didn't have the patience to deal with this. Not tonight. Not after the last few days. 

“What am I upset about?” Libertus laughed a little at that. “Really? You _really_ want to talk about this?”

“I don't know,” Nyx said, beginning to be a little annoyed. “Do I?”

“You think I haven't noticed what's happening to you,” Libertus said. “I haven't said anything because I thought, 'hey, he's still dealing with things. I'll cut him a little slack'. But _this?_ ”

“What are you talking about?”

Libertus waved his hand at Nyx. “You're losing your accent. You almost sound Lucian when you talk now. I bet you didn't even realize that, did you? You never talk about home. You love this whole glaive thing. You love it because you get to play the hero. You get to show off, and listen to everyone tell you how amazing you are.”

“That's not true.”

“And listen to you now! Fawning over that stuck-up little brat. Preaching to me about how he “has a tough time”? He doesn't know the first thing about suffering. We lost everything, Nyx! All us glaives did. And what do we get in exchange? Not a word of thanks from people like your precious prince. They sit here under their magic wall and moan about their little problems, when they don't have the first idea what real suffering is like. So don't you dare tell me that he ‘has a tough time’!”

“Lib, I-”

“Face it, Nyx. You're doing the one thing you promised you wouldn't do. You're forgetting.”

Nyx punched Libertus in the face. He didn't even stop to think about it. His anger flared and his blood ran hot and the next thing he knew, Libertus was stumbling backwards, hand to his nose. A trickle of blood ran down his face, trickling out between his fingers.

“Don't. EVER. Say that to me again,” Nyx said. “Don't you dare accuse me of forgetting. Don't you _fucking_ dare.”

Libertus dropped his hand, letting the trail of blood drip silently down his face. For a moment, the two glared at one another in silence. Then Libertus scowled and stalked across the room. He slammed the door behind him so hard that cabinets rattled. 

Nyx tried to sleep, but the day was so mixed up in his head that he laid there for hours. When he finally did manage to drift off, the nightmares began, as always. And he watched Galahd burn all over again. 

\----

Libertus didn't show up the next morning when the rest of the glaives assembled for morning training. Drautos immediately noticed his absence. 

“He called me this morning to tell me he was sick,” Nyx invented, when Drautos demanded an explanation. “Thinks he might have gotten a touch of the malboro poison after all. He'll be back in tomorrow.”

“He better be. You can tell him that he'll have a week's worth of gate duty for not reporting his illness through official channels.”

“Sir.”

Crowe kept staring significantly at Nyx the entire morning, trying to catch his eye. He wasn't sure he was interested in sharing what had really happened last night, so he avoided meeting her eyes. Of course, he should have known it was inevitable, and that when Crowe wanted to know something, she found out. She eventually cornered him in the mess hall.

“What gives?” she demanded. “I saw Libertus just last night. He was fine. And he didn't drink nearly enough to be hung over. So what is it?”

“It's nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think I'm going to buy that?”

“Not really.”

“Well, then?”

Nyx sighed and dropped his voice to a whisper. Crowe leaned in to hear. “Look. Last night, we had a...disagreement.”

“A disagreement?”

“I punched him in the face and he stormed out.”

Crowe took a moment to close her eyes and shake her head. “You think you've seen it all, but nope. The idiocy of men continues to amaze me. What were you fighting about, anyway?”

“He accused me of getting a little too friendly with Insomnia. Told me I was trying too hard to fit in. Then he accused me of forgetting Galahd, and everything that happened there.”

“Shit. So that was when you punched him?”

“Obviously.”

Crowe sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. I have a short shift this afternoon. When I'm done, I'll head over to his place. See if I can't smooth things over between you two morons.”

“I'll go with you,” Nyx offered. “I...suppose I ought to apologize.”

“You'll do no such thing. You'll stay away until I sort this out. Got it?”

He nodded, slightly abashed. “Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say.”

Her lips curved up into the tiniest hint of a smile. “Damn right.”

 

Of course, he didn't listen to her. His shift ended about a half hour after hers and as soon as it was done, he made his way through the city to Libertus's place.

He arrived at the doorway and paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. He would apologize. Not that he thought he was in the wrong, strictly speaking. But apologizing seemed like the right thing to do. Then Libertus would apologize for what he had said, and maybe things could at least get back to normal again, even if neither of them really meant it. 

He had his hand raised to knock, when he heard Crowe's voice through the paper-thin walls of the cheap apartment. It didn't help that she was practically yelling.

“Libertus Ostium! Are you....jealous of Nyx?”

Nyx froze, his hand still poised to knock.

Libertus's voice was harder to hear, partly because he was mumbling. “No?”

There was an incredulous pause.

Libertus sighed. “Look, you wouldn't understand.”

“Why don't you grow up already and try me?”

“It's just....he's such....a _dumb_ hero.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“He's... amazing at this whole glaive business. Everyone knows it. Here, he gets to be the hero he's always wanted to be. He's got the Captain practically eating out of his hand. Now he's even best buddies with the prince, apparently.”

“And do you hear the way he talks? He barely even sounds like a Galahdian anymore. He never talks about home. It's like he just....doesn't care anymore. Meanwhile, I'm the joke of the glaive. The bumbling idiot from up north. I just....how can he forget? How is it so easy for him?”

His string of words petered out, and the apartment sat in silence for a moment. Nyx heard his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. It didn't even occur to him to just walk away.

“You listen to me,” Crowe said. “Because I'm only going to say this once. Nyx Ulric is seriously _fucked up_. He is nothing to be jealous of.”

“What do you mean?”

Crowe laughed darkly. “Boys, I swear. Do you even use your eyes? He doesn't sleep. He won't ever tell me, but I know he still has nightmares. Sometimes, I think he even has them when he's awake. I'll catch him, just staring off into space, like he's forgotten where he is, before he snaps back and looks like he's seen a ghost. When we're out on a mission, he throws himself right in front of the biggest danger he can find. Like he's trying to get himself killed. You think he's trying to a hero, and maybe that's part of it. But I think it's mostly because he can't stand himself. I think, in some messed-up way, he's trying to make up for how guilty he feels.”

“The hell does he have to be guilty for?”

“Not a damn thing. I know that. You know that. But does he?”

“I don't think-”

“Have you ever even stopped to consider the fact that you walked away from Galahd with your family intact?”

“No, but-”

“And why is this a contest with you? Why does it matter who's suffered more? Who cares? Are you really going to be jealous of the experience of watching your family die around you? Because you weren't there, Libertus. I was there - with him. And it was horrible. There aren't words invented that can describe how horrible it was.”

“I didn't-”

“So don't let me EVER hear you say that you're jealous of him again. Do you understand me?”

“All right, all right,” Libertus's voice came hastily. “I guess I didn't notice how....bad things still were for him.”

“Lucky you,” Crowe said coldly. “Don't get me wrong, he can be a cocky asshole. But he isn't doing well. And if he likes to act like he's forgotten, well, maybe it's because it helps him remember things a little less vividly.”

Nyx stumbled away from the door. He didn't want to hear any more. His mouth was dry and his blood thrummed loudly in his ears, drowning out every other sound. 

He never should have brought Libertus into all of this. He should have protested more, when Libertus offered to come with them to Insomnia. He should have insisted that Libertus stay in Galahd. It was where he belonged, where he would have been happier. How could he have been so unaware of Libertus's growing disenchantment with Lucis?

He turned away from the door and began walking blindly. The city seemed to grow hazy around him, and the buildings seemed to blur together.

Somewhere, in the distracted mess of his brain, he thought he heard footsteps behind him, rapidly approaching. Before he could react, something heavy struck the back of his head. The last thing he saw was the street turning sideways around him, before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Stay tuned!


	11. The Incident

The first thing Nyx became aware of was the pounding in his head. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet, but he could already feel the throbbing at the base of his skull. The problem was that he couldn't remember why his head was hurting. Were they out on a mission? Had he been injured? Had he just had too much to drink with the rest of the glaives?

He eased his eyes open, and promptly forgot about his aching head as his brain flooded with other questions. First and foremost of those questions – where the hell was he? 

He was seated in a metal folding chair in a large, industrial-looking room that he had never seen before. The ceilings were high, with exposed rafters and wiring. Half of the room was piled with crates and rusty machinery. There was a window at the end of the room, but he wasn't at a good angle to see much of anything other than a small patch of dark night sky. Still, it was enough to tell him that he wasn't on the ground floor, wherever he was. His best guess was that he was on the second or third floor of a warehouse of some kind. 

He made a move to stand and investigate, only to discover a second alarming problem. His arms were tied together behind the back of the chair, and his ankles were tied to the chair legs.

What in....How long had he been out? The last thing he remembered....

Libertus and Crowe arguing. He had been eavesdropping. The last thing he could remember was something hitting the back of his head, and falling.

All right. He could deal with this. Someone had decided to knock him out and bring him here, for some godforsaken reason. It couldn't be for money, since he wasn't worth a single gil, and no one was interested enough in him to pay for his safe return. He didn't think it was some kind of twisted revenge plot either, since he couldn't think of anyone who had a big enough grudge against him to do something like this. Sure, Tredd was becoming increasingly jealous of him, but even he wouldn't stoop to this. Which left only one other explanation that he could think of. Someone was looking for information, and they expected to get it from Nyx.

Well, Nyx determined, they were dead wrong. Whoever he was dealing with clearly hadn't done their research on him, otherwise they would have done a better job of restraining him. Ropes? Really? All he had to was summon a little fire to burn through them and then he would....and then he would...

Nyx's brain fizzled to a halt. The magic was gone. Missing. Or something. The slight buzz that had been running through his blood ever since the day he had taken his oath as a glaive was gone. He couldn't feel it. Alarmed, he closed his eyes and tried to reach inside himself, searching for it. But his head was too fuzzy and if the magic was there, it eluded him. 

He tested the ropes with his arms and found them to be annoyingly secure. This was going to be slightly more complicated than he had thought. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps scuffing up the stairs. Two, maybe three people? It was hard to tell. The footsteps came to a halt outside the door and Nyx could hear the sounds of someone fumbling with the lock. It sounded like a sliding bolt – difficult to break from the inside even if his hands were free.

The door opened and three figures walked into the room. All three wore masks, which left Nyx looking for other distinguishing characteristics. Two were men and one was a woman. He noted height, hair color, and what looked like a horrible burn scar on the woman's arm. It wasn't much to go on.

Whoever they were, they were messing with the wrong glaive, and Nyx was not in the mood to deal with this kind of thing tonight. Or ever, for that matter. He rolled his eyes.

“Seriously?” he asked, as his captors filed into the room and approached him. “What is this supposed to be? Some kind of joke?”

“Far from it,” one of the men said. He spoke with a thick accent, although Nyx couldn't quite place it. 

“Look,” Nyx said. “I don't know what you think you're going to accomplish here. I do know that it's not going to end well for you. I'm going to ask you very politely to untie me and maybe I'll agree to just forget this ever happened.”

“You think you can tell us what to do?” The woman had the same accent as the man. “You think just because you're one of the Kingsglaive, we have to listen to you?”

“If you know I'm a glaive,” Nyx said carefully, “then you know I have the king's magic. And I'm telling you that if you stop this now, I'll be nice and just walk away. Otherwise, things are going to get ugly.” 

That was a lie, since the magic was still locked beneath a wall of haziness and he couldn't seem to reach it. With any luck, they wouldn't call his bluff. 

The man who had spoken first looked alarmed, but the second man stepped in smoothly. “He's bluffing.” He dragged another folding chair across the floor, the legs scraping along in a high-pitched screech that set Nyx's teeth on edge. He opened the chair in front of Nyx and sat, folding his arms and settling back in the chair. “You can't use your magic. If you could, you would have already. Which means the drug is working, and your magic is no good here.”

That caught Nyx off guard. He had assumed it was just the after-effects of the blow to the head that were causing the haze. But some kind of drug? “What did you give me?” he asked, trying not to sound as uneasy as he felt.

“Nothing you need to worry about. It won't kill you. It'll just keep you from being able to use your magic, for the time being. Just to give us time for a nice friendly chat.”

Nyx rolled his eyes heavenward. “Right. Listen, let's get this over with. Why don't you just come out and tell me what it is you want?”

“It couldn't be simpler. Like I said. Just a conversation between friends.”

“Ah, I see,” Nyx said, his voice harsh with sarcasm. “That explains the ropes and the drugs. This is how I talk to all my friends.”

The masked man in front of him shrugged. “Just precautions. I'm sure you understand.”

Nyx snorted and didn't deign to answer.

The man in front of him held out his hand expectantly to his companion. His female companion handed him a thin, black file. He took it and began flipping through it. 

“Let's see,” he said casually. “Nyx Ulric, it is. Born in 729. Joined the Kingsglaive last year. Total of 43 successful missions. That's quite impressive.”

Nyx huffed and stared up at the ceiling. Somehow, they had managed to get their hands on his file. Not exactly earth-shattering, but it still got under his skin. 

The man flipped a page and continued reading. “Parents, Andras and Miteras Ulric. One sister, Selena Ulric, born 732, died 751. Reported to be -”

That did it. 

“Shut up,” Nyx snarled. “Just shut up. You don't know the first thing about them.” He tugged against the ropes, desperately wishing he could punch the man across his smug, masked face. How _dare_ he mention Selena. 

“I'm sorry,” the masked man said, closing the file. “I don't wish to upset you. I understand. I truly do. I understand how you must feel.”

“ _Enlighten me_ ,” Nyx spat.

The stranger spread his arms. “We all had our homes ripped away. We all lost loved ones. We're the same, you and I. We're on the same side.”

Understanding dawned on Nyx with surprise. “You're refugees. Same as me.”

“We are. And in the spirit of that bond, we would like to offer you the chance to join us.”

“Doing....what?”

“A simple job, really. But one that is absolutely vital to regaining our lost homes. We would simply require certain information that you, as a member of the Kingsglaive, would have access to.”

Of course. They wanted him to be their own personal mole within the infrastructure of the Citadel. They wanted him to spy on the Glaive, on Drautos, on the King, and who knew what else. His annoyance flared into anger, and he clenched his fists, muscles straining against the ropes.

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “Hm, let's see. I've got a better idea. How 'bout you go fuck yourselves instead?”

The masked stranger let out a slow sigh. “I'm disappointed, my friend. I had hoped this could be a civil discussion. Really.”

The second man stepped forward and Nyx just had time to brace himself before the man's fist slammed into his jaw. His head snapped backwards, and then forwards again just in time to be met with another blow, and then another. The man's fist smashed into his nose, his jaw, his cheekbone. Nyx saw stars and tasted the metallic tang of blood.

“Let him breathe,” the first man commanded, and the second man backed away. Nyx's head rang, and he tried to blink away the black spots that swam in front of his eyes. He could feel the blood trickling down his face, and could taste it dripping down the back of his throat. He gagged and swallowed thickly.

“I told you I didn't want it to be like this,” the stranger said. “But maybe it's better this way. Now you know we're serious. Would you like to reconsider your answer?”

Nyx's face ached and he wondered how much force it took to break the bones there. His nose felt like it had collapsed inwards, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. Still, he glared at the stranger. “Rather not.”

“I understand that. I can even respect that. It's a difficult thing to ask of a person. So I'll change my offer. Our relationship can end after tonight. You never have to see us again. We just need some information. You answer a few questions tonight, and then leave a free man. You can answer them willingly, or not, but you will answer them. The only question you have to ask yourself is how much pain you want to go through before you answer them.”

Nyx winced as he tried to scowl back. “Wow. Original. Did you write that speech yourself?”

“It doesn't have to be like this.”

“Let's just get this over with.” Nyx coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood. It spattered across the man's shoes and onto the floor.

The seated man gestured to his companion. The companion stepped forward again, looming menacingly over Nyx. Nyx sat up a little straighter in his confined position and set his jaw. 

“So. Nyx. I understand you were the one to find Prince Noctis when he went missing last night. You must know him quite well. What can you tell us about him?”

“Hm. He's sixteen. Quiet kid. Good with a sword. I hear he hates his vegetables,” Nyx quipped.

“Very amusing,” the stranger said. “What can you tell us about his daily schedule?”

Nyx clenched his jaw and said nothing. The first man nodded at the second. The second stranger swiftly punched Nyx in the gut. Nyx crumpled forward, his fall stopped only by his arms that were still tied together around the back of the chair. Pain radiated across his abdomen. A hand grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back upright in the chair.

“We know that he is picked up from school at 3:45 every afternoon. Does he go anyplace after school?”

Nyx said nothing and received another blow to the stomach for his trouble. He let out an involuntary grunt as the pain slammed into him. 

“Is he normally with anyone when he goes out? Are there any guards?”

Nyx settled into a defiant silence as the questions continued. The blows kept coming, one after the other. The pain flared across his midsection as he tried to remain silent through the beating. He could feel the bruises blossoming under the skin, could feel his ribs aching and burning. At one point, he could have sworn he heard something breaking, but it was getting hard to make sense of things. His vision was fuzzy and spotted, and his breath came in short, wheezing gasps.

At last, through the fog of the pain and drugs, his tired brain put the pieces together and he realized what was going on.

“You want to kidnap the prince,” he wheezed out. His words were slurred with blood and it was hard to force the syllables out. “You....think.....if you kidnap the prince....you can do... what? Hold him hostage until....until the king agrees to fight to get....your homes back?” The whole thing was so ill-conceived that Nyx actually laughed, a hoarse, choking sound that ended with him coughing and hacking out blood. 

“You...you actually think that's going to work?” he asked incredulously, as soon as he could breathe again. “First off, good luck controlling the prince. Second, what do you think....the king is trying to do? What do you think the glaive is trying to do....every time we go out to fight? We're trying to get your homes back. _Our homes_. That's the whole...point of this damn war! Don't you get it?”

“That's what the king wants you to believe!” The first stranger was on his feet, eyes blazing. He grabbed Nyx's drooping chin and forced it up. Their eyes locked. “He feeds us lies and empty promises and people like you believe it! Meanwhile, he hides behind his precious wall and does nothing while people like us lose everything! It's not right! We want action, not words, and we're willing to do what's necessary to get it.”

Nyx lowered his voice, and spoke as evenly as he could. “Listen to me. This...is a stupid plan. It's not going to work. You're idiots if you think anything else.”

The stranger released Nyx's chin and punched him across the face. Nyx was given no time to recover before the second stranger went back to work, unleashing a torrent of blows that left Nyx choking and gasping for air. It felt like his ribs were folding inwards, crushing his lungs, cutting off his air supply. His head lolled forward like a rag doll and he couldn't seem to summon the energy to pick it back up again. 

Dimly, somewhere through the layers of pain and darkness that clouded his vision, he imagined he could feel the faintest hint of the drugs beginning to fade. It wasn't enough. He still couldn't reach the magic. But it was starting. Which meant he just had to last a little longer. He could do that. He could survive. 

He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain. He tried to focus on something else. He shouldn't have been surprised when his brain conjured up an image of Selena. Beautiful, fiery, and alive. Unaware of the horrible end she was destined to meet. Unaware of how destroyed he was going to be without her.

“We need to hurry this up,” the woman spoke. “Someone's going to notice he's missing, and start asking questions.”

Nyx opened his eyes and raised his head high enough to give them a crooked, bloody smile. “Oops,” he said. “Someone's running out of time.”

“We don't have time for this,” the woman said, stepping forward. She shoved the second man out of the way, placing one hand on Nyx's arm and another on his shoulder. In one swift motion, she jerked his shoulder forward. 

Nyx heard the sickening pop before he felt it. A cry of pain tore from his lips as fire wrapped around his shoulder and shot, icy hot, down his arm. His natural inclination was to pull his arm into his chest and curl around it, but his arms were still tied behind him and he could do nothing to alleviate the pain. His cry died out and he sat, gasping out short breaths, shaking from the pain that held his whole body captive. 

“Save yourself some pain,” the man spoke again, his voice taut with anger. “Tell us what we need to know and we'll let you go.”

Nyx ground his teeth together and fought to get the words out. “Go to hell.”

“What is wrong with you?” the woman shouted. Her eyes were wild and her manner was unhinged. “You're one of us, not one of them! What loyalty could you possibly have to these people? Don't you get what they've done to us? Why won't you help us? Why won't you help yourself?”

She had a knife in her hand, and Nyx was too foggy to remember if she had been holding it earlier or not. She was screaming at him, and waving it in his face, quickly losing all appearance of control.

“Marlena!” the first man said. “You need to step back. We still need him.”

She was so close to Nyx's face that he could feel the heat of her breath as she pressed the knife against his throat. “WHY? Why won't you help us?” she screamed

Nyx felt the sharp edge of the knife pressing against his windpipe. He could feel the drops of blood sliding, slick, down his neck, as the blade bit into his skin. His life suddenly seemed a fragile thing, as flimsy as paper. All that stood between him and death was a few layers of skin and muscle and bone, holding all the blood inside him. One movement was all it would take. It would be so easy.

Exhaustion and pain washed over him, and the anger and defiance slid away as he felt himself deflate. He looked up at the woman out of his swollen eyes. “Just....do it,” he choked. “Go ahead.”

The magic was stronger now, and he could feel it awakening in his veins, faintly beating inside his chest. He didn't bother to reach for it. He just titled his head back a little further and waited.

His dim acceptance only seemed to anger the woman further and she let out a desperate scream. The second man sensed her intentions a moment before she struck. He flung his arm out and caught her wrist just as she brought the knife down in a wild, reckless arc.

The knife missed his throat, and instead drew a deep, jagged slice down the side of his neck. 

His neck burned and stung as the blood began to pour out, dripping down the side of his neck like a waterfall. Nyx choked, realizing. This was it. This was how he died. In some abandoned warehouse to a bunch of would-be kidnappers. 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. He was dimly aware of the commotion going on around him. The two men were pulling Marlena off him, while she was screaming bloody murder. But it seemed somehow distant and unimportant. 

Instead, he wondered what would happen when he died. Would it all just end? Or would he wake up someplace to find his family there, waiting for him?

He imagined seeing Selena again. He imagined her face lighting up with joy at the sight of him. She would run to him, and he would sweep her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. _I'm home at last, Selena,_ he would say. He would kiss her on the forehead and she would be real and they would be together and nothing else would matter. 

And yet, as time stood still, he saw it. All of it. All the things that had built his life up to this point. And it was strange. Because for things that didn't matter, he remembered all of them like they had happened only yesterday. 

He saw it all in flashes. Playing in the river with Libertus. Teaching Selena how to float. Saving her from drowning, and almost drowning himself. The warmth and security of his father's embrace. His father entrusting the kukri to him, and telling him it was for protecting, not destroying. The King saving Libertus and him from the daemon. Meeting Crowe and slowly gaining her trust, and learning to trust her. The long night of waiting to see if Crowe's fever would break. Crowe quitting his job for him. Opening the bar with Libertus. All the wonderful nights spent there. The night of the daemon attack, and the way he and Crowe had felled the giant together. The letter Selena had written to him on his birthday. The feeling of high-spirited joy and carelessness the afternoon he and Libertus and Crowe had climbed the mountain. And everything that had followed. The fire. The ruins. The ashes. All the blood. The decision to pull himself out of the ashes and do something with the life he was forced to keep living. Joining the glaive and finding friendship among others who had lost their whole world as well. Trying to understand the lonely young prince, who had turned out to be not so unapproachable after all.

They were the pieces of a life, and they were real, and they had happened, and they were his. And they _had_ to matter. 

In his imagination, Selena released him from her embrace. She took a step back and looked up at him a little reproachfully. “Nyx,” she said fondly. “What are you doing? You can't leave now, silly.”

And he realized what he'd been too lost to see before. That the sun rose and the sun set, and the world turned and time was a relentless forward march and it was all going to end someday. And maybe the only things that mattered at all were the choices made and the things done in the meantime. 

The answer was staring him in the face. He couldn't die yet. He still had work to do. 

The world flashed back into focus, and Nyx realized, with a strangled gasp, just how much blood was gushing out of his neck. He focused on the only tangible thing he could find, the magic that was within reach again, pulsing weakly beneath his skin. He took a deep breath, calling the magic out, pulling it together with all of his strength. A fireball blazed into existence between his bound hands. The flames engulfed the ropes that held him until they charred and fell away. 

Hands freed, he transferred the fire into his good hand, burned the ropes holding his ankles and was standing before his captors had time to react. As it was, their attention was divided as both men were struggling to hold Marlena back. 

As Nyx stood, the man who had been doing the speaking let go of Marlena and stumbled back. The other man saw what was happening and took a wild swing at Nyx, but Nyx was ready for it. He caught the man's punch on his uninjured arm and lashed out with a kick that sent the man tumbling to the ground.

Marlena screamed in anger and grabbed the closest thing she could reach, the metal chair Nyx had been sitting on. Nyx dodged her blind swing, which left her stumbling and off-balance, carried over by the weight of the chair. He then lunged forward and snatched the knife from where it had fallen to the floor during the struggle. Marlena recovered her balance and turned back only to find him pointing the knife at her. 

The three refugees took a step back, all watching him warily. Nyx felt a wave of something like pity as he realized that they were afraid of him. He had one hand clapped over the wound on his neck, and was panting and dripping blood, but they were afraid of him. And he saw that they weren't hardened criminals. They weren't assassins or kidnappers or betrayers. They were just scared, and they were in way over their heads. 

“Where are my weapons?” Nyx asked, pointing the knife at first one, then another. He wasn't leaving here without them.

Eyes wide with fear, the first man pointed wordlessly to a crate at the side of the room. Nyx limped across the room to it and dumped the contents out. His kukris clattered to the floor and he scooped them up with relief. He cautiously released his death grip over the wound on his neck in favor of holding one of his daggers. He decided that if he hadn't bled out yet, then the knife must have somehow missed any major arteries. What were the odds? Maybe someone was looking out for him after all. 

If he wasn't going to bleed to death right then and there, he had to deal with these three. The way he saw it, he had three options. Number one: he could kill these people, here and now. As far as he was concerned, that was out of the question, and barely even bore consideration. The second option, then, would be to somehow subdue them and turn them in. Or at the very least, to escape, but have a means of identifying them to turn them in once he was safe and wasn't bleeding everywhere. 

That was what he ought to do. That was what any loyal glaive ought to do. Follow the rules. Kill the bad guys. Keep the royal family safe. Keep Insomnia safe. Yes, sir. No, sir. Whatever you say, sir. Obey your orders.

Well. Following the rules had never been Nyx's strong suit.

He limped forward to Marlena. She shrank back, but he pointed his kukri at her and she stopped in her tracks. He reached out and ripped off her mask. She was younger than he had expected, and her face was covered in blotchy red burn scars. He pulled the masks off the other two as well, and saw that one had freckles and a crooked nose, and the other had a thin, white scar through his left eyebrow. It wasn't a lot, but it would hopefully be enough to be able to identify them later if necessary. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” Nyx said. They watched him with rapt attention, their eyes wavering between his dagger and his face. “I understand you're angry. You have every right to be. But you're taking it out on the wrong person. Niflheim did this to us, not the King. And certainly not his son. Hurting them won't get you anywhere.” He took a step backwards. “I don't want to turn you in. Because I get it. But. I've seen your faces. If I hear even the slightest whisper about any of this. If I ever see any of you again. There is no place you can go that I won't find you. I will burn you to the ground. You will never get away. You got that?”

The freckled stranger nodded, swallowing audibly. 

“If you ever come near the prince-” Nyx swallowed, stumbling over his words. The pain that was pulsing down his injured arm flared. “If you ever....” He winced, lowering one dagger to press his injured arm into his body. The black spots were back, and he shook his head, trying to clear them. Shit. He was in bad shape.

His momentary distraction was interrupted by the sound of a distinct click, just to his right. He lifted his head to find himself staring down the barrel of a pistol, held by Marlena.

His brain was running on empty. If he had been thinking straight, he could have disarmed her countless different ways. But his body was shaking and vision was blurring and he didn't want to hurt her. So instead, he spun as quickly as he could and threw his kukri towards the window. He felt the familiar tug at the center of his gut just as he heard the crack of a gunshot. 

The drug still hadn't worn off entirely and Nyx's warp was sloppy and wild. He reappeared in a flash of blue sparks, crashing through the glass of the window. He felt a stab of fire just above his left hip bone, and the next thing he knew he was plummeting through the air to whatever lay below.

It turned out to be water. By some stroke of luck, the window that he had chosen to throw himself out of was directly above the canal. Nyx hit the water with a splash and sank like a millstone. The water burned as it came into contact with his wounds and he cried out, inhaling a lungful of water.

Above him, the wavering city lights shone on the surface of the water. He forced his arms and legs to move and propelled himself up, straining towards the light. He broke the surface with a gasp, coughing and choking, spitting out the water he had swallowed. He only allowed himself a few breaths before diving back under. Marlena was unhinged, and there was no telling whether she might decide to start shooting anything she saw moving in the canal.

He swam beneath the surface of the dark water, heading downstream. He had no idea where he was, but he didn't bother to worry about it yet. His first concern was simply getting away. He would figure out his bearings once he was away from the angry person with the gun. He swam awkwardly, his one arm hampering his movements and his side burning with fire, but he kept moving. 

When his lungs felt like they were about to burst, he surfaced and took stock of his location. The warehouse was out of sight, lost in the forest of buildings upstream. He doubted they would actually pursue him. Their intent hadn't been to kill, merely to intimidate. They were civilians, after all. He doubted they had the stomach for it. 

Exhausted and aching, he dragged himself through the water to the side of the canal. Groaning with effort, he pulled himself up the rusty metal ladder and onto the concrete. Safe on solid ground, his shaking arms gave out and he collapsed onto the narrow sidewalk. 

He lay there for a moment, panting, and struggling to draw in air. His side was screaming at him, and he was almost afraid to look at it. He closed his eyes and fought to breathe as the waves of pain washed over him.

The night air was chill, however, and he was soaked to the bone. His body was beginning to shudder with cold, and he knew that he couldn't just lay here. He had to move.

He dragged himself forward, into the shelter of a nearby pyramid of storage crates and collapsed into a slumped position against it. He clenched his jaw and reached down with shaking hands to prod his side. Pain flared instantly beneath his fingers and he stifled a moan of pain. Blood coated the left side of his jacket, oozing out from the bullet hole ripped through his side. He couldn't manage to reach around to feel if there was an exit wound, but it seemed prudent to assume the worst case scenario, which meant assuming the bullet was still rattling around inside him somewhere. _Perfect_. 

He had to put his shoulder back into place before he could do much of anything. It was going to hurt, but there was no help for it. It had to be done. So he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, reaching his bad hand up and back. In one swift motion, he _pushed_ with his good hand. Nyx heard the joint pop back into place as he yelped, spikes of pain shooting out from his shoulder.

Once it was back in place though, the pain from that quarter died down to a whisper. One problem solved. 

He leaned his head back against the crate and took in his surroundings. He had to figure out where he was. His eyes traveled upwards and he located the Citadel in the skyline. It wasn't that far. He noted the surrounding buildings and realized with a jolt of hopefulness that he wasn't that far from his apartment. On a normal day, it would have been an easy walk. Half an hour, tops. But now? 

Crowe's apartment was closest. It couldn't be more than a mile and a half. He would head to her place and hope to high heaven that she was there.

He fumbled in through his pockets, hoping to find his phone. Wishful thinking, of course. His pockets were empty. His captors may not have been criminal masterminds, but even they had thought to remove his phone. His eyes started to drift shut as he imagined what that phone call might have sounded like. _Hey Crowe? Yeah, can you come pick me up? I've been shot....and stabbed. Oh yeah, and I jumped in the canal, too. Forgot to mention that. Think I might just...pass out...while I wait for you to get here...take a little nap...._

His eyelids were heavy and he felt the darkness threatening to drag him under. He forced his eyes open. He couldn't sleep. Not yet. 

He placed his hand against the ground for support and heaved himself onto his feet with a groan. Every bone is his body protested. He swayed, and almost fell as his head swam with the sudden altitude change from sitting to standing. But he stayed on his feet. He checked to make sure he still had both daggers, and tucked them safely away. He pressed one hand over the wound in his side, and felt the blood slowly spilling out, soaking his fingers in red.

“Just a few miles...” he muttered. He could do this.

And he started limping forward. One foot in front of another. His legs shook beneath him, and his body begged him to stop. But he kept going, doing his best to ignore the stabs of pain that radiated from his side every time his foot hit the ground.

Although the city around him still pulsed with life, the canal that he followed was deserted. He was almost glad for that. If anyone were to see him now, they would surely call for help. He would be taken in for emergency medical care, which would be great, except that then he would be forced to identify his captors. There would be a report and an investigation. And sure, he could lie, and say he had never seen their faces. But they would find the warehouse, and the three refugees were undoubtedly inexperienced enough that they had left all kinds of traces behind. They would be caught and questioned and the plot against the prince would come out. They would be prosecuted and maybe even executed. Public sentiment against the refugees would rise, and things would only get worse for Nyx and others like him. 

No, seeking help was out of the question. He just had to make it to Crowe's. 

He had nearly made it a mile before his legs finally gave out beneath him and he stumbled to his knees. His breath came in short, pained gasps and his entire body shook like it was about to fall apart. He eased his hand off the bullet wound as gently as he could, trying to survey the damage.

It was bad. He knew it was bad. He was losing too much blood. At this rate, he would lose consciousness before he reached help.

He tried to tear the bottom of his shirt. His hands were shaking so badly that it took several tries, but he finally managed to rip two strips of the blood-soaked fabric away. He wadded one of them up and pressed it against the wound. The other, he tied around his torso, holding the first piece in place. It wasn't much of a solution, he knew, but it was the best he could do with what he had. Hopefully, it would help stem the tide of blood long enough for him to reach help. 

He lurched to his feet again. He was listing to the side and curled in over his stomach, but he was standing and he could keep moving. So he did.

He lost track of time. He didn't know how long it took. He concentrated on breathing through the pain. On telling himself that he was almost there. Just a little bit farther.

The alley Crowe lived in was deserted, lit only by the lights that burned down from the city up above. Her windows were dark and his heart sank as he considered the possibility that she wasn't home. 

He raised his hand to knock, but ended up collapsing against the door with a thump. He lifted his hand and pounded as loudly as he could. _Please be home, Crowe._

There was no answer and he knocked again, harder. “Crowe!” he called hoarsely. His shout turned into a cough, speckling blood into her doorstep. A light flicked on in a window and he heard a door slam somewhere inside. He heard footsteps, and Crowe grumbling all the way to the door. 

“Who the HELL is bothering me at this hour of -” She jerked the door suddenly. He had been leaning against it, and fell inwards, almost on top of her.

“What in- Nyx?!”

She half-caught him as he fell, and sat down in surprise, landing with him in her lap in the open doorway.

“What in...? Astrals above - Nyx, what happened to you?” Her voice was shrill, and rose with panic, no doubt taking in the amount of blood on his person. He must look like he had dragged himself straight out of hell.

It was as if his body recognized that he had made it to safety and was beginning to shut down. His eyes started to slide shut. 

“No, no, no, don't do that!” He felt the sharp sting of her slapping his face, but it did nothing to change the fact that all his eyes refused to stay open.

“Nyx! No, no! Wake up, Nyx!”

The panic in her face was the last thing he saw before the black spots spread across his vision and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!!! Thanks for reading!


	12. The Things You Don't Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick disclaimer that I'm about to attempt to write about medical stuff, despite the fact that I have ZERO medical knowledge of any kind. Do not try this at home because I have literally no idea what I'm talking about.

“Nyx. _Nyx_. Come on, buddy. I need you to wake up. Come on.”

The voice was floating on the edge of Nyx's consciousness, pulling him back from oblivion. The voice sounded scared and a little desperate and for a brief moment, he couldn't remember where he was or what was going on. 

But then someone was slapping his face and the darkness began to slip away. Awareness was fast returning to his body, and the pain returned with it. It came in waves, each one fiercer than the next, sharp stabs that radiated from his left hip, wrapped around his torso, shot down his arm and covered his face. 

“That's it,” the voice was saying. “Come on. Wake up for me.”

Nyx forced his eyes open with a soft groan, only to discover that one of his eyes wouldn't open, and the other one only opened to a narrow slit. He was lying on the couch in Crowe's apartment and she was kneeling on the floor beside him, staring down at him anxiously. 

“Oh, thank the Six,” she said, relief flooding her face. “Don't ever do that to me again.”

Nyx opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a hoarse cough. Pain flared in his midsection and he cried out as fire radiated from the bullet wound. He tried to curl in around his stomach, but Crowe stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Quit moving like that, you're going to hurt yourself worse.”

His jaw was clenched against the pain and he was afraid to unclench it to answer her. She saw, and grasped his hand in her free hand. He squeezed it gratefully, crushing her fingers as he struggled to breathe through the waves of fire that rippled through his body.

The wave subsided for a brief moment and he relaxed somewhat. Crowe extricated her hand from his. “Hold still. I'm calling the hospital.”

“No!” Nyx ground out, grabbing her hand again to stop her. 

“Not the time to be kidding around, Nyx,” Crowe snapped. “You're hurt bad. I'm not letting you bleed out all over my couch. You need a doctor.”

“You can't,” Nyx said. “They'll need....to know what happened.”

“What did happen?” she asked. “You collapse into my doorway at this ungodly hour. You've been shot and it looks like someone took a carving knife to the side of your face, which by the way is a mess. What the hell happened to you?”

But the fire was back, burning through his veins stronger than before and he cried out again, squeezing her fingers until both their knuckles went white. The spasm passed, leaving him breathless and shaking.

“Nyx, you're scaring me,” she said. “Please let me call you a doctor.”

He looked up and locked eyes with her. “Can't you just...patch me up?”

“Can't I just... Nyx, this isn't a fucking patch job! This is way beyond me. You need real help, not me! And why don't you want anyone to know what happened?”

“If....if I tell you, will you help me?”

She wavered. “I guess it depends, doesn't it?”

It was the best answer he was liable to get. In shaking breaths, between spasms that threatened to rip his body in half, he gave her an abbreviated version of what had happened.

“You get it, don't you?” he asked. “If I go to a hospital, if this gets reported through official channels...they'll be able to find them. They'll never get away.”

She pressed her lips together firmly, thinking. She rose to her feet and crossed the room, leaving his line of sight before returning with a bottle of pills. She shook a couple into her hand and passed them to him. 

“Painkillers,” she said, by way of explanation. “I don't know if they'll even touch it, but it's all I've got.”

He reached for them gratefully and swallowed them dry.

“Listen,” she said. “Letting them get caught might not be such a bad thing. They _shot_ you, Nyx.”

“That was kind of an accident,” he breathed. “I think.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, forgive me if I'm not rolling in sympathy for them.”

“Really,” he said. “I think....they understood me. They're not going to try anything.”

“Yeah, but this isn't just about you and your messed-up sense of justice,” she protested. “This is about the prince, too. If what you're saying is true, they might try to go after him. We have a duty to protect him.”

“They won't.” He clenched his jaw as the pain returned. He ground out another cry of pain, fingers gripping the cushion of Crowe's couch in a crushing grip. “Can you....please...just help me out here?”

“Ok, just calm down,” Crowe said, the worry creeping back into her voice. “Breathe.”

“...please?”

Crowe waited until his death grip relaxed before shaking a finger in his face. “You're going to be the death of me. If you die on me, I'm going to kill you.”

She rose and stomped off. He heard her rattling around in a cabinet somewhere. He tried to focus on breathing. Every breath felt like a knife blade to the wound in his stomach.

When she returned, her hands full of medical supplies. “Here's the deal. I will do my best to patch you up. By tomorrow morning, if things have gotten worse, I don't care what you say. I'm calling this in. Deal?”

Nyx wasn't exactly in a position to be arguing. “Deal.”

Crowe gingerly cut his shirt open down the middle, peeling back the blood-soaked layers of shirt and jacket, revealing the mess that lay beneath. “This is gonna be bad,” she warned, tearing open a package of alcohol wipes. “Are you ready?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He wasn't ready, of course, and he gasped in pain as the alcohol burned and sizzled as it came into contact with the wound. It felt like it was eating away at the raw wound and he flinched away from her touch.

“Hold still,” she said grimly. “I can't get the bullet out if I can't see what I'm doing.”

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, lying rigid as a board while she did her best to mop up the blood that was still pooling out of the wound. He felt her hand move away and he cracked an eye open to watch her. His stomach twisted as he saw that she was opening another sterile packet and taking out a pair of forceps. She swallowed visibly, and he noticed that she looked a little nauseous herself.

“Last chance to back out on this,” she said. “You don't owe these people anything.”

He reached out and closed his fingers over her wrist in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Go ahead. You can...do this.”

She shifted her position, trying to better angle herself over him. “Deep breath.”

They both inhaled together, and Nyx did his best to ignore the resulting stab of pain. Every muscle in his body was rigid and tensed, ready to snap. He gave her a tense nod. _Do it_.

She pursed her lips, placing one cold hand on the bare skin of his torso, forceps grasped firmly in the other. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

He jerked as he felt the cold metal enter the wound and let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and a hiss. It was like someone was pouring fire into the wound. He hadn't imagined he could be in more pain than he already was, but he was very, very wrong. This was much worse. Despite his best efforts, he twisted under her hands, his body involuntarily trying to get away from the pain.

“Hold still,” she said. 

The forceps burned like lightning, like knives, like poison as they came into contact with the open flesh of the wound. He felt the bile rising in his throat and he fought to swallow it. His grip on the couch tightened and he fought to breathe.

“Hang on....I think...maybe...”

Crowe's words seemed to be coming from farther away than before, and the black spots were back, crowding in from the edges of his vision.

“I think I found it. Just a little bit...”

Whatever else she said, he didn't hear it. The darkness deepened and Nyx lost consciousness. 

\----

Nyx woke to the sound of someone running water somewhere behind him. His whole body hurt, but it wasn't the burning, consuming fire that it had been. It was a muted kind of pain, like listening to someone shout through several closed doors. 

He shifted a little and groaned as the pain returned in a flash. He hissed and settled himself back. The pain retreated, but it didn't go far.

“Good, you're awake,” Crowe said, appearing in his field of vision. “You passed out on me just as I was trying to get the bullet out. I wasn't too worried, though, since I figured that was a pretty normal reaction to having someone dig around inside you without any kind of anesthesia.”

“Did you get it?” Nyx croaked. His throat was like a desert.

Crowe reached over to counter and grabbed a small plastic bag which she then waved in front of his face. Inside it was the bullet, bloodstained and misshapen, but intact and thankfully, not inside of him anymore.

“Got the little sucker right here. I saved it, in case you wanted in a souvenir.”

“Pass.”

Crowe smirked and tossed it back onto the counter. “How are you feeling? Are the drugs helping at all?”

“Bit better,” he said. “Takes the edge off.”

“Need some water?”

Nyx nodded gratefully, and Crowe passed him a glass. He had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. 

“You're running just a little bit of a fever,” she said. “But I'm pretty sure that's normal at this point. I stitched you back up, and used a couple of potions to help things heal a little faster. I'm no expert, but it looks pretty clean, for now. I tried to clean up the side of your face, too.”

Nyx gingerly reached up a hand to feel the side of his neck where the knife had cut him. A thick bandage was taped securely in place over it, and the blood had all been washed off. “Thank you.”

Crowe shook her head at him. “You are one lucky bastard, you know that? Forget the bullet. If that knife had been just the slightest bit further over, you'd never have made it.”

“I know it,” he said. His voice was less scratchy. A little stronger. “And really. Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't thank me yet. I still reserve the right to call a real doctor the moment things start looking iffy.”

“I'm fine,” Nyx insisted. “Really. It doesn't hurt so much, now.”

“That's the pain meds talking,” Crowe said. “You'll be singing a different tune in a few hours.”

Nyx grimaced, because he knew she was right. The pain wasn't gone, just beaten into submission for a few hours.

“Listen,” Crowe said. “You need to get some sleep, and frankly, so do I. But I just...I need to ask you one thing first. Now that you're not gonna bleed out on me.”

“Shoot.”

“You said you didn't want to turn those people in because you didn't want them to give all the refugees a bad reputation. But there's more to it than that...isn't there? What is it? Why do you have to be the hero about this?”

Nyx thought about it for a moment, letting his head fall back into cushions. “I'm not trying to be a hero. It's just...when I saw them, I realized what things could have been like. If I hadn't joined the glaive. If I didn't have you and Libertus. If things had been just a little bit different. I might have been one of them. They were just scared, and angry. People always do stupid things when they're scared, and they always regret them. And I think...all of us are one bad day away from being just like them.” He met Crowe's eyes. “I guess I just understood them, is all.”

Crowe's brown eyes softened and he knew she understood, too. “You're so dumb, you know that?” she said fondly. “Get some rest, hero. We'll figure the rest out tomorrow. You need another round of those meds, or are you good?”

“Good for now,” Nyx said. “And thanks. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She flicked off the main light, leaving only the light burning above the sink. “Oh, and Nyx? Don't ever ask me to dig a bullet out of you again.”

\----

It was the throbbing bullet-wound that woke him up the next morning. The meds had really and truly worn off and the pain was back, although it wasn't as fierce as it had been.

It was broad daylight, and the sun was streaming in through the window. He could hear Crowe talking to someone, and could see her standing in the doorway with her back to him. Whoever she was talking too was out in the street, and blocked from Nyx's view. 

With a groan, Nyx leveraged himself into a semi-sitting position so he could see better. 

“...good idea? I'm not sure what kind of shape he's gonna be in this morning. If you start fighting with him again, then so help me -”

“I'm not gonna fight.” The other voice was Libertus. “I just want to see if he's ok.”

“Crowe?” Nyx called hoarsely. “It's fine. You can let him in.”

She turned to see that he was awake. “All right, all right, fine. Lib, get in here. But no fighting or I swear I'll shoot you, too.”

She moved away from the doorway and Libertus stepped inside. He was in uniform and looked like he'd come from training. 

“Hey,” Libertus said.

“Hey.”

It was awkward.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Crowe asked brusquely, ignoring the tension. 

“Like I got shot.” Nyx said, attempting humor.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” she said. She handed him a glass of water and a few more pills. He swallowed them, eagerly anticipating the relief they would bring.

“Thanks. How long have I been out?”

“About 12 hours,” Crowe said. “It's a little after 2.”

“Shit,” Nyx said. “Drautos.” He pushed himself fully upright, wincing as the wound in his side protested. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” Crowe said, as Libertus reached out a hand to stop him. “We've taken care of all that. Calm down.”

He looked up at her suspiciously. “You've 'taken care' of it? What does that mean?”

Crowe and Libertus shared a small smile. 

“We, uh, asked Pelna for help. We had him hack the schedule.”

Libertus opened his phone and handed it to Nyx as proof. Nyx took it and looked. Their training schedule and guard rotation were all posted, as they always were, except that his and Crowe's names had been removed from the schedule for that day.

“Unbelievable,” Nyx said. “And you got away with that?”

Libertus shrugged. “Drautos looked a little suspicious, but he didn't say anything.”

“Obviously, he'll realize something is going on when you eventually turn up looking like you got hit by a train,” Crowe put in. “But one problem at a time, right?”

“That's....wow, thanks,” Nyx said. He seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

“Don't thank us, thank Pelna,” Crowe said. “Anyway, you boys clearly have some things you need to talk about. I'm not your mom, so I'm going to go take a shower and let you two work your shit out. Remember, no fighting.”

She disappeared from his view, and he heard the sound of water turn on in the bathroom. An awkward silence fell in her absence. 

“So,” said Libertus, taking a seat on Crowe's coffee table. “You look terrible.”

“Really?” Nyx asked, more to diffuse the tension than anything else. “I thought this was a good look for me.” The longer he was awake, the more certain he was that he truly felt better today. He still didn't feel good, by any means. But the potions Crowe mentioned using must have been doing their work well. He owed her – big time.

Libertus huffed out a small laugh, and the space between them felt a little lighter. “Look. I said some things I shouldn't have yesterday. I was-”

“Stop,” Nyx said. “You don't have to apologize. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did.”

“No, I want to explain,” Libertus said. He took a deep breath and looked down, fiddling with one of the buttons on his jacket. “You're good at this, all of this. Better than me. It just looked like you were able to move on so easily, and I wasn't. It seemed like home didn't matter to you anymore. That was a dumb thing to think. I should have known....I mean, I guess I just...didn't realize how differently we were both still dealing with things. So, I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Nyx said. “I shut you out. I shouldn't have done that.” He hesitated a moment before plunging on. “Back home, in Galahd. Running the bar. That's who you are, and that's what you're meant to do. You really belong there. And I think Galahd needs you. It's my fault you're not there. I shouldn't have encouraged you to come here with me.”

Libertus crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. “If that's who I am, then what about you?” 

“Me?” Nyx shrugged, and then instantly regretted it as his shoulder reminded him it had recently been dislocated.”I dunno. I think....maybe this is who I am. Maybe this is what I was meant for. I'm good at it, like you said. Maybe this is where I belong.”

Libertus shook his head. “First of all, you didn't make me do anything. I told you. I make my own choices. I chose to come here. And second of all, bullshit. No one is made for a life like this. Not even you.”

Nyx couldn't think how to respond to that, so he settled for rubbing the bandage on the side of his neck awkwardly and looking away.

“Besides,” Libertus said. “We're still going back. When all this is over. We'll reopen the bar. It'll be even better this time. You'll see.”

Nyx smiled faintly. “Maybe. Yeah.” 

Libertus sensed Nyx's lack of enthusiasm and changed the subject. “So do you want to tell me what really happened? I must have asked Crowe a hundred times. She just kept saying to ask you. Are you gonna tell me or what?” 

“Depends,” Nyx said. “Can you keep it quiet?”

Libertus snorted. “I've been keeping your secrets since you were old enough to have secrets.”

So, for the second time, Nyx recounted the events of last night. Bu the time he was finished, Libertus's mouth was hanging open.

“Holy....SHIT,” he said at last. “You're not making that up?”

Nyx gave him a withering glance and pointed to his bandaged torso. “Do I look like I'm making it up?”

“You really can't help it, can you?” Libertus said, shaking his head. “Trouble literally just follows you.”

“Looks that way.”

“Whatever. You're not allowed to get into any more trouble until _that_ ,” he pointed vaguely at Nyx's bandage, “heals up.”

“I'll do my best.”

“In the meantime, we're only going to do boring, safe stuff.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Such as this,” Libertus retorted. He got up off the coffee table and switched on Crowe's small TV. He retreated back across the room with the remote and settled himself on the floor, his back resting against the couch. There was a news broadcast on and Libertus switched the channel. The next channel was playing commercials, and the next was showing a nature documentary. The camera was zoomed in on a small, yellow frog huddled beside a rock. It let out a magnificent croak. The narrator droned in a monotone.

“Perfect,” Libertus said. “Nice and boring.”

“Give me that,” Nyx said, reaching down to snatch the remote from Libertus. His movement was slow and awkward, and Libertus could have easily evaded it, but he let Nyx steal the remote. 

“If we're gonna watch TV, we're gonna find the good stuff.”

He flicked through the channels, which flashed by in a montage of 2-second clips.

“Stop!” Libertus said. “Go back one.”

Nyx did as requested. It was a low-budget horror movie they had seen earlier that year and had both agreed was possibly the cheesiest thing they had ever seen.

“Perfect,” Nyx agreed, handing the remote back.

They had missed the first third of the movie, but the plot was so nonsensical that it hardly mattered. Nyx's eyes were beginning to feel heavy again as the drugs started to take effect. He stayed awake for a little while, listening to Libertus trying to talk the characters out of going into the haunted arcade (“Why would anyone even go near that place? Why even take that chance?”) But the combined background noise of the TV and Libertus's voice were soothing, and the drugs were gently pulling him under. He fell asleep before the ghosts even started attacking the hapless tourists.

\----

By the next morning, Nyx was feeling remarkably better. The potions had done their work, and the pain was considerably less. Crowe cautiously let him sit up, and then stand. She stood nearby, hands hovering and ready to catch him, as if he was about to topple over at any second.

“I'm fine,” he said. “Really. I feel lots better.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “Just two nights ago, you looked like you were on death's door.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Two nights ago. I'm fine now.”

“Your face says otherwise,” she said dryly. 

He touched his face self-consciously. It was still a tender mess of black and green bruises. “Still,” he said. “I've got to go in and talk to Drautos today.”

“You decided what you're going to tell him?”

“The truth. Or at least some of it.”

Crowe raised her hands in surrender. “Your life. Like I said, I'm not your mom.”

They rode the subway. Climbing the stairs to the upper levels was slow going, but he made it eventually, leaning on Crowe the whole way. By the time they reached the glaive headquarters, he was sweating and the pain was worse again. Still, after the fuss he'd made about being well enough to come, he couldn't exactly admit that Crowe had been right. So he told Crowe he wanted to go in by himself, and she shrugged and said she'd wait out in the training yard. 

He made his way down the hall and paused outside the captain's door to collect himself and wait for his breathing to calm down. 

“Come in,” Drautos said, when Nyx knocked.

Nyx pushed open the door and stood there, waiting for the inevitable reaction. Drautos was seated at his desk, head bent over his work. It took him a moment to look up. When he did, the reaction was immediate.

“What in- Ulric, what happened to you?”

Nyx forced himself into something like parade rest, ignoring the throbbing in his midsection. “There was an...incident, on my way home two nights ago, sir. I was unprepared and they got the drop on me.”

“I can see that.”

“I handled it, sir. It's not going to be a problem.”

“You sound extremely certain.”

“I had a discussion with them,” Nyx said. “We came to an understanding. Things had a peaceful resolution.”

“Then why do you look like you've been dragged to hell and back?”

“I said there was a peaceful resolution,” Nyx countered. “I never said there was a peaceful beginning.”

Drautos's mouth quirked in what Nyx could have sworn was amusement. “I see.”

“I'm not asking for any personal time. I can be on duty today.”

A ridiculous thing to say. He was barely on his feet.

Drautos sat back in his chair and scrutinized Nyx for a moment. If Nyx hadn't known better, he might have thought he sensed approval in Drautos's scrutiny. 

“That won't be necessary,” Drautos said at last. “I appreciate your honesty. I can give you a week to get yourself put back together. Can you handle that?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Nyx turned to go, allowing a wince to creep into his features as soon as he was facing the door. 

“And Nyx?”

Nyx paused, his hand on the doorway, and looked back.

“Tell Pelna that his hacking was sloppy. If he plans on doing it again, I don't want to be able to see his footprints.” 

Nyx grinned. “Yes, sir.”

Crowe helped him back to the subway and rode with him to his apartment. His side was hurting more and more the farther they went, and by the time they reached his place, she was carrying almost as much of his weight as he was. She dumped him onto his bed and rummaged through his cabinets to find another potion.

“I'm not leaving until you use that.”

He used it.

“You promise you'll call me if you start feeling worse?”

“I promise.”

“All right,” she hovered in the doorway for a moment. “Rest up. I'll swing by tomorrow to check on you.”

“Thanks again for going in with me today.”

She gave him a mock salute and left, closing the door behind her.

Exhausted from the walk, he was asleep within minutes.

 

He woke up to find the evening sun coming in through the window, and city lights beginning to glow. He felt better than he had that morning, even before the trip to headquarters. He showered awkwardly, examining his stitches under the water. The potions had done their work well, and the stitches would need to come out, soon. His torso was still a bruised mess, however.

He toweled off and re-bandaged his torso. He took the bandage off his neck and decided it could stay off. He examined the healing wound in the mirror. It was a jagged line down the side of his neck - ugly, red and extremely noticeable. There wasn't going to be any hiding it. 

The clock ticked and the subway rattled by. Everything was the same as it normally was, and yet something was different. He couldn't put his finger on it. But for some reason, the quiet wasn't as oppressive as it used to be. It didn't weigh quite so much.

His phone buzzed, and it was Crowe. _Lib is coming over to check on you. Play nicely._

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on his door. It was Libertus. Nyx opened the door and let him in.

“How did Drautos take it?” Libertus asked.

“Not bad,” Nyx said. “You know how it is. He's hard to read.”

“You doing ok?”

“Not bad.”

“You want to get out for a bit?”

“Yeah.”

They went for a walk around the nearby streets. Nyx was more aware of his limits than he had been that morning, so they didn't go far. They walked slowly, not saying much, just taking in the sights and smells of the crowded immigrant district. Nyx's bruised, scarring face earned them more than a few strange looks. 

“What are you looking at?” Libertus demanded of anyone who he caught staring. “Mind your own business.” 

Libertus bought some food from a vendor, and Nyx's stomach growled at him, reminding him that it had been some time since he'd eaten an actual meal. He bought some food as well, and they found a bench outside a pub to sit on while they ate. 

Their view faced west, and they had a perfect view of the sun setting between the towers of the Citadel, high above them.

“There's something I didn't tell you,” Nyx said slowly, breaking their comfortable silence. “Or Crowe.”

Libertus didn't say anything, but Nyx knew he was listening. 

“The other night. When they had me tied up there, when they were trying to get me to talk. This woman was threatening me with the knife - threatening to kill me if I didn't tell them what they wanted to know. And there was a moment – just a moment – where I wanted her to do it. And I told her. I told her to just go ahead and do it.”

“Nyx...”

“I just thought...it would be so easy if this were just all over. I just wanted to not have to do this anymore. I thought maybe I'd see Selena again. See my parents.”

He paused, searching for the words. “But I couldn't go through with it. I think it occurred to me that if I did that...if I just took the easy way out, then it would have all been for nothing. All of it.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I know I'm gonna die. Could be tomorrow. Could be years from now. But it'll happen, and it'll probably be awful. But every day that I'm still alive...well, there's gotta be a reason for that, you know what I mean? As long as I'm still alive, I can still do things. I can still help people. And I think that matters.”

He looked down at his hands. He could still see the faint burns from the ropes around his wrists. “Besides. I don't think Selena would have been very proud of me for just giving up.”

He didn't know how to put it into words, or how to explain it explain it to Libertus. Maybe there were no words for it. But he felt compelled to try.

“I guess what I'm trying to say. Things happen - like Galahd. And you can't forget them. They stay with you forever, even when you wish they wouldn't. You don't have a choice about that. But. No matter how it ends, whether that end is inevitable, or not. You're still alive, and the things you do in the meantime can still matter. And that's something that you don't let yourself forget. That's something you hang onto.”

Libertus didn't say anything for a long while. But he slowly nodded, as though he was turning Nyx's words over in his head and thinking about them. 

When he did speak, all he said was: “We're a long way from Galahd.”

It was a simple statement, but Nyx knew the volumes it spoke, and all that Libertus intended it to mean. So he nodded. The world, it seemed, was far bigger, far stranger, and far more complicated than it had seemed in Galahd. 

“Been thinking about another tattoo,” Nyx said.

“What are you thinking?”

Nyx gestured to the side of his neck. “This is gonna leave a nasty scar. I thought, once it heals, I might get the line traced over. Just as a reminder.”

“I like it,” Libertus said. “It's a good idea.”

Nyx let his eyes drift shut for a moment. _I won't forget, Selena. I won't forget. Wait for me just a little longer, all right? I think I've still got some stuff to take care of here._

He opened his eyes, and there was no answer, of course. He hadn't really been expecting one. But maybe - just maybe - he didn't need one.

The sun hung low in the sky, bright and brilliant, painting the world in shades of purple and lavender, indigo and blue. A light breeze was drifting by, tossing his braids against the stitches on his neck, and the breeze smelled like mountain asters and memories and all the things he would never forget. 

 

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, my friends! Thank you all so much for reading, and thank you to everyone who has left kudos or comments. You are all amazing, and I can't tell you how much it means to hear from you. I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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